No secrets
by Alexnandru Van Gordon
Summary: Dick The young Richard Grayson goes through his side life from Robin as a young child with Bruce Wayne. If you thought fighting crime was hard enough, just wait until you see the trouble he gets into one summer...series of Oneshots
1. Default Chapter

No Secrets

Alexnandru Van Gordon

THIS IS MY FIRST ONE-SHOT! I had to write this for my little sister because she had been so good lately and I reached a small writer's block for The Boogie Man. I will return to this, but I had to write this first…

DSCLAIMER: Nope.

**IMPORTANT:** Robin is **Richard Grayson** and he is about **eight or nine** years old.

Let's go—

Richard had pets when he was in the circus…the circus animals to be more precise. There was Eleanor the elephant, and the tigers, and the monkeys…but he never actually _had_ a _real_ pet. He couldn't when he was an acrobat because they were constantly on the move, and Bruce wasn't the animal type. It was enough for the man to have a kid who ended up as his side-kick in the end. They were always caught up in patrols and school, that Richard wouldn't have the time to take care of the pet himself. If not for Alfred, it would probably die…

But when summer came, school was over—and that left time for a pet.

Too afraid to ask Bruce for one, Richard had to think up how to get one the hard way. The most logical explanation was to adopt one and find it out on the street. But street dogs weren't exactly tame and Bruce would know it was in the house within a five minute time limit. That guy was spooky sometimes. He was psychic like Alfred on the odd days, though he was absolutely oblivious on how to take care of an eight-year-old boy. It took Alfred to remind him that he wasn't as strong, fast or cold as he was…

Thank God for Alfred.

It was one night when he had separated from Batman on patrol that the chance to find a pet arose. It wasn't usual that Batman let Robin go off on his own at such a young age, but tonight was one of those few rare nights were crime was at an ultimate-low. All he could say was that if Batman ever found out what he was up too, it would be like treading through hell waters.

He shivered at the thought.

Jumping down from a short building, flipping in mid-air and landing in a cat-like crouch—he heard a noise to his left. Something hit a trash can and scurried further into the shadows of the alleyway. Either it was a rat or a stray pet—Robin wishing for the latter of the two. He was close to Wayne Manor—maybe if he ran he could sneak a dog home.

"Hello?" He called out, not afraid if some bloke heard him. If he did—then Robin would beat the tar out of him. "Anyone there?"

He started off and knelt beside a pile of cardboard boxes where the animal had last been. Two glowing eyes blinked up at him before it walked out into the light and—

"_Meoooooooow."_

A cat? A cat…Oh well. It was a cute little kitten and he really didn't mind. Cat's weren't as active as dogs and would probably have a better chance at not breaking something. That, overall, was a good thing when you lived in a museum like place with artifacts as ancient as time itself standing out in the middle of no-where, just _begging_ for a little boy to break them…

Robin shook the thought from his head and picked up the small kitten. It wasn't that dirty either. White fur, little glowing eyes—it purred and snuggled up against his chest, settling in his arms as though it had longed to be held like that again. It had no collar and no way to identify where it came from—a small cut on the back of its left ear. Besides that, it was as good as new—his kitten.

With the kitten he hurried back to the batmobile and opened the trunk. There was a small blanket back there that Robin used sometimes late in the night when they drove home in the cold. It was cold tonight too, but he could handle it. The kitten needed it more than he did.

Wrapping the small fluffy white creature, he placed it gently back in the trunk as it slept and closed the trunk door quietly. Then he heard something behind him.

"Looking for something?"

He spun around, slapping himself mentally for letting his mentor sneak up on him, and rubbed the back of his head. "I was looking for the blanket."

"Isn't it in there?" Batman asked in his stoic voice, walking toward the car. "I was so sure—"

"Alfred took it out to clean it. I forgot." Robin finished for him. No doubt Batman thought that was peculiar, but the man tossed his worries aside. He was too tired to question his ward on this night.

Heart thumping loudly in his chest, Robin slipped into the passenger seat and didn't say a word the whole while back home. His main concern lay with the kitten every time Batman pressed down on the gas…

RRR

Returning to the cave, Robin pretended to be tired to account for his slowness. When Batman went off to change, Robin snuck to the back of the car and opened the trunk, hoping to the dear lord above that the cat wasn't dead. Luckily for him, it snuggled out of the now warm blanket and stretched out with a small yawn. Then it leapt into Robin's arms and brushed up against his chest as it purred softly.

He really liked kittens now.

Watching out for Bruce and Alfred, Robin ran up to his room and hurried off to bathe. The kitten was locked up in his room and he didn't want to imagine the sort of things it would do while he was gone.

"Is something the matter, Master Dick?" Alfred asked with an arched eyebrow. Richard had dressed as quickly as he could manage without falling and nodded, running back toward his room. "You look like someone is after you…"

Bruce would be if he ever found out—but the goal was to make sure he _didn't _find out.

Running toward his room, he just about knocked Bruce over who had made his way to say goodnight to the boy. He caught him by his shoulders and allowed a small smile to come across his face before he laughed quietly. "Ready for bed, chum?"

"Yes—" Richard shot out his hand and caught the doorknob before Bruce could. "Goodnight!"

There was an awkward pause before Bruce leaned against the door to stop Richard from entering. "Is there something…_wrong_?"

"No." Richard fought back, eyes narrowing in a small frown. He tried to sound insulted. "Why does everyone think that?"

Bruce shrugged, crossing his arms and _still _leaning against the door. "I don't know…Maybe because of the way you're acting?"

"Humph! You're so mean. Do you want me to act super tired, or something?"

"No…I was just going to tuck you into bed." He leaned off the door and was about to open it when Richard leaned against it this time.

"I'm a big boy—I can tuck myself into bed!"

Bruce smiled again, entertained by the small boy's comment. He knew something was up—it was only a matter of getting it out of the boy. "Really? But I want to do it."

Bruce put a hand on Richard's shoulder and began to pull him away from the door—when Richard suddenly pressed against it harder. "Then adopt another kid." He retorted, not really meaning it.

"One is just enough for me, Dick." Bruce sighed, laughing to himself inside. Something was inside the room and he wanted to find out what it was. "As annoying as you are, I like having just you and Alfred around."

He grabbed Robin before he could complain and lifted him up so that he sat on his hip, an arm wrapped around his back to keep him up. "I can walk on my own." Richard muttered—eyes suddenly growing wide when Bruce reached for the door. "And I don't need to be tucked it—honestly!"

Richard reached out an arm to stop Bruce's, but the man had longer arm and opened the door as Richard started to grow pale. The door swung inward and…

Nothing. It was pitch black inside and nothing could be heard.

Curious, Bruce reached for a light-switch, still holding the boy so he couldn't run inside and hide whatever he was hiding. Whatever it was…it wasn't there.

Maybe he wasn't hiding anything at all?

Richard sighed mentally and kept himself form laughing out loud. "Sorry." He muttered, playing along to the act. "I didn't want the monster to get you."

"Monster…" Bruce breathed, placing Richard on the bed before eyeing the entire room. There was nothing out in the open, but one could never know… "Yeah, but I can beat up a monster. Why would you want to go inside on your own if a monster was in here?"

"He's my friend." Richard shrugged, slipping under the covers. Secretly he was wondering where the heck the kitten was. "And he only eats adults."

"I see…" Bruce gave once last glance at the room before tucking Richard into bed. He was so suspicious, but still…Richard was getting better at hiding secrets. "Goodnight, Dick."

"Goodnight." Richard replied—and then he jumped up from beneath his covers. Bruce, sitting on the edge of the bed, almost fell to the floor, when something white and fluffy climbed out onto Richard's lap, snuggling up close to him as it purred.

How the heck did the boy sneak a kitten into the mansion?

Richard began stroking the small kitten with a look of melancholy on his face. His eyes turned, full of guilt, toward Bruce who was still trying to figure out how his surrogate son had almost gotten away with such a feat. "Richard…" He started in a low serious tone…

"I know." The boy sighed. "She shouldn't be here—it was just a thought."

"A though? It looks like a kitten to me."

Richard's shoulders slouched as the boy prepared for the worst. The kitten sat up on his lap and licked its paw, turning its innocent eyes toward Bruce. Bruce wasn't a man who was easily moved—besides the fact that he loved Richard—but somehow he couldn't stare at the kitten without feeling warm.

The kitten jumped and crept toward Bruce, settling itself onto his lap as it persisted in purring until he scratched it behind the ears. He sighed in defeat…Why did Richard have to bring back a kitten? A dog would have been easier to say no to…

"I hope you know you can't keep him."

Richard made a small face, but relaxed. "I know…but can I keep her for tonight. I promise I won't try this again—but _please_…?"

If looking stern at the kitten was one thing, looking at the boy's face was even harder. Being a tough guy, he wasn't used to losing to _cute._

He tried to frown…but it only came out as another sign of defeat. "Only tonight." He muttered, lifting the small kitten and handing it back to Richard. The boy's face lit up as he laid back, the sleeping kitten in his arms.

Closing the door to Richard's room, Bruce found himself face to face with Alfred, a curious look on the butler's face.

"And…?" The older man implied, a smirk starting at the corner of his lips.

"One night." Bruce replied, holding up his index finger for emphasis. "_One_."

"Yes, Master Bruce, of course."

"I mean it."

"Most certainly, Master Bruce."

He frowned to himself as he started down the hall toward his room. He knew that somehow Richard and Alfred were going to stretch one _night_ to one _week_ to one_ year_ to…

-A-

Emily (little sister): Yeah! Thank you, Robin.

Alex (my real name is Robin): You're welcome. I hope the rest of you people liked this too. I wrote it in about fifteen minutes, so please excuse any mistakes.

Emily: Tell him to write another one, people! Please…? (_Puppy dog eyes._)

Alex: Ummm…Maybe…

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	2. Not Gonna Believe This

Not Gonna Believe This…

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Okay…so my little sister has been really good as of lately, so I promised to write another one of these one-shots. I also decided to attach them, thus probably making it easier for you guys to keep a track of. I think…Oh well, I'm writing another and you can read it or ignore it. Either is fine with me. Also—I am working on the next chapter to Boogie Man, I just lost my computer key and I have it saved on that…oops…

**Quick Not:** Robin is still Richard, and it's still the summer of the same year.

DISCLAIMER: Hmmm…no.

Let's go—

Okay…finding a home for the kitten wasn't hard, but it was difficult to say goodbye to her. Richard actually convinced his friend Matthew from school to take her in and that way he could see her if they ever came to visit. Poor Pearl…he was going to miss her.

After a week or so he was okay with it and didn't mind too much that Pearl was gone. He went over to Matthew's a couple of days ago and said hi to them both. That wasn't too bad. He did, however, own Pearl for at least two weeks—unlike Bruce's _one night_ rule. So much for that…even he had to admit he missed the kitten, but she had a knack for getting lost in the mansion if you adverted your sight for even the slightest of moments, and she was drawn oddly to the draperies. Alfred liked the kitten…but she wasn't exactly trained to leave things alone…

Anyway—it was at the end of that one week that something else happened.

Out on patrol, Robin rubbed the back of his head walked through the alleys and was almost tempted to start whistling. His left shoulder was killing him from a nice little blow a thief from the museum delivered in the dark. He was caught off guard, but he and his mentor got rid of the man in no time at all. Now, while Batman alerted the authorities, Robin went strolling around in search of more trouble.

Not that he meant to find the trouble that he did.

Stepping into the darkness, the faint light from the street lamp behind him allowed him to see enough of what was in the alleyway to maneuver around it—but large things like a person or a box…not little things…like a cat.

_Raaaaooooooowwwww!_

Okay—kitten.

He must have jumped three feet into the air, breath caught in his chest as he backed away a couple of steps. Squinting in the darkness, he saw the little kitten who was licking her swore paw. But it was no wonder he didn't see this one. She was overly small and as black as ebony. Glowing eyes turned on him and he cursed ever going out alone.

Why this?

"I'm sorry." He whispered, biting his lower lip. The kitten limped toward him slightly, stepping on her front right paw gingerly.

"No…" He said, losing the battle already. It was hard trying not to look at it. "I have to go…"

He turned to leave—

_Meow?_

But that couldn't have been a question…it was just trying to get to him…

_Meow…_

I hate cats—I hate cats—I hate cats—I hate cats—I hate cats—I hate cats—

…but this is a kitten…

The kitten followed him as far as it could walk on its injured paw—the one _he_ injured—and that really did a number on his conscience. He spun around and picked it up, scratching it behind the ears as it curled up into his chest. "You know he's going to kill me…don't you?"

The cat meowed again and settled. Robin had always imagined street cats to be mean and hissy, but somehow he always had to find the ones that pulled at your heart strings. Well…at least this one was black. Maybe he could hide it better…

Bruce was going to know.

Okay—the plan…The plan was that he was going to find someone to take it in right after he took a look at that paw. Even though he was pretty light for his age, the kitten was a heck of a lot smaller than he was and that could have really hurt her paw.

Great—add guilt to the mixture and then there's no escape…

He did what he did last time—this time making sure Bruce wasn't anywhere in sight as he put the kitten in the trunk. This time he wrapped it up tighter for safety's sake before smiling at the sleeping figure and closing the door. Then he slid into the passenger seat and waited for his mentor to return.

"Something wrong?" Bruce asked, eyeing Robin. The boy had his arms crossed, a look of defeat plastered on his face.

"No…" Robin muttered. "Just drive…"

Okay—something was wrong, but Bruce decided to leave it be for now and attack the issue later when Robin was in a better mood. At least he was quiet the entire trip home…though he looked a little startled every time Bruce pressed on the gas…

RRR

He followed the last plan through just like the first time he snuck a kitten home, but this time he tried to be as stoic as he most possibly could. Through this, Bruce didn't question him as often…but he did look worried…

He couldn't know by now…could he?

Richard shook his head as he dried from his bath and dressed for bed. He hid the kitten in the cave this time and would bring it upstairs once Bruce settled in to sleep. That way he wouldn't have to work around the man like he had last time. Actually, last time wasn't so bad. The guilt trick the kitten used on Richard worked on Bruce too.

Go figure. He waited until about three in the morning when he was sure Bruce would have taken a break from researching. Then, watching out to see if Alfred was still around, he snuck downstairs in the dark and opened the cave door. Taking quiet steps down the stairs to the basement, he came to the trunk and opened it silently—hoping to God nothing bad happened to the kitten. Much like the first, it was still sound asleep—not dead—just asleep.

"Hey…wake up." Richard whispered, giving her a gentle shake. The cat yawned and stretched out, purring beneath his hand. "We have—"

The door to the cave was opened again and flooded the stairs with light. A muscular figure stood at the top as he slowly started his way down and Richard instantly knew it was Bruce. Sometimes the man couldn't get a night's sleep unless he cracked a case, and so far he had been working on the Joker again.

Silently, Richard cursed his persistence. Taking up the kitten and quilt, he dashed into the darkness down to the workout area and hid behind some of the machinery. Bruce, like he suspected, walked straight over to the computer and took as seat as the screen flickered on. The light from the screen illuminated more of the room, revealing the opened trunk to Bruce's eye.

"Hm?" He hummed aloud and stood; a curious look on his face as he strolled over to his wheels. Staring inside he noticed the blanket was gone but shut it and leaned against the vehicle. Arms crossed, he sighed and looked around the cave… "Richard?"

Instead of answering he kept his mouth shut. By the way Bruce was acting Richard could tell that the man _suspected_ that he was done there. He didn't actually _know_ he was down there and that could prove useful.

The kitten stirred in his arms, somewhat alarmed by the booming voice that echoed in the cave. Not only that, but a few bats screech and began to flutter around, not quite the most relaxing of sights or sounds when you were small and fluffy.

Then it meowed.

Bruce had actually turned back toward the computer then, about to toss his suspicions aside, but that sound seemed so loud right now…

Staring up at the bats, Bruce paused where he stood and took another look around the cave. "I know you're down here…" He started, and began to walk around. "Come out."

Now Richard knew why criminals could get so scared of this guy. It was damn freaky when you were being hunted by him…it wasn't fun.

Taking the blanket from around the kitten, he wrapped it around his body and held the kitten to his chest. When Bruce stepped over to the evidence table, back to the workout machinery, Richard slipped aside to another table which held an array of their own weapons. Then he moved toward the wall and hid in a fissure in the stone just as Bruce spun around.

"Richard?" The man asked and moved toward the workout area. The boy began to thank his luck that he moved when he did rather than waiting. It would have been all over…

Bruce raised an eyebrow when he found nothing there and turned around sharply again, this time heading for the computer. Richard thought perhaps he had given up—but that was nothing like the man's character. Instead, he went right over to the computer and shut the screen off.

Instant darkness…

Richard felt trapped now. He knew his way around the cave, but now his better judgment would be set off by no vision—but Bruce on the other hand was just like a bat. All he had to do was wait and listen.

Moving out from the fissure, he stared around the corner at the stairs. The door was still opened and lit only the stairs, an easy escape if he made a break for it. But that was what Bruce was expecting. He was going to wait for him to run for the stairs—and then he would grab him.

It was so taunting and Richard hated it. Now that he thought about it, he really hated this game. He didn't like the idea off having something jump out at you in the dark to grab you—and he didn't like who was hunting him. Maybe if it had been a villain it would have been better—because then he could hit them. But with Bruce, a hit would get him grounded…unless they were sparring.

_Meow._

Richard covered a gentle hand over the kitten's mouth and held his breath. He could hear Bruce moving closer—and dodged to the side just as the man passed the spot he stood last. He could feel the wind brush against his face as Bruce moved only inches in front of him.

Bruce was good…

"Richard…" The man started in a deep, authoritive voice. "Come out now."

"I don't like this game." He whispered, and moved aside as he felt the wind off another close call. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark and that meant Bruce's would too. Right now, he could see an outstretched hand moving toward his face and so he ducked quietly, moving aside again. Right now his best bet was to make a break up the stairs…but first…

Richard dropped his quilt and, as he suspected, Bruce heard the material against the floor. He bent down and reached for it, feeling the blanket in his hand as Richard slowly moved away. He could see Bruce's figure as he stood and turned to look one way and then another…

Then he went for it. Richard found himself at the top of the stairs in the blink of an eye, and he didn't just stop there, he dashed into the living room and knelt behind one of the couches, holding his breath no matter how hard it hurt. Actually, he expected to have Bruce hot on his heels…but instead he heard nothing.

Glancing around the couch…he saw no one else in the room. Bruce could have gone to check somewhere else…

After a while, Richard stood and returned to his room, kitten still in his arms. He closed his door behind him and settled the purring creature on his bed, sitting at the foot of it with his knees brought up to his chest. Staring at the cat as it rolled around and stretched, he sighed to himself. "There's no way I'm going to find a new home for you now…not with Bruce knowing and all…"

"Don't sound so sad."

He jumped and stifled a yelp as someone grabbed him around the waist from behind. "Bruce!" He called out and thought of how stupid he had been to return to his room. Of course Bruce was going to check there—where else would he go?

His surrogate father sat down on the bed with Richard on his lap, the kitten moving toward the two playfully. Much to Richard's surprise, Bruce reached out a hand and moved to pet its head, his other arm still around Richard's waist.

"So…" The man began. "When were you planning to tell me you decided to get another pet?"

"Never." Richard muttered. "Because I wasn't going to keep her. I wanted to check with Matthew or someone else if they would take her in…like the last one…"

"I see…then…were you ever going to tell me?"

Bruce took Richard's silence as a no.

The kitten crept onto Richard's lap and he took over with the petting. It was a sweet kitten too like the last one.

"What's her name?" Bruce said in a low ton, showing Richard he wasn't angry.

"Um…Ebony."

"Ebony?"

"Because she's black."

"…I see…"

-A-

Yeah…I have a puppy named Nancy, so I was tempted to call the cat that…but my dog is hyperactive and the kitten is pretty cuddly really…Odd. I'm not used to talking about cute things so I hope this wasn't corny for you or really…not…cute…whatever. I try. Oh—and don't count on all the one-shots being about pets and kittens…I just have to think up of something else little kids like my sister like…

_Until again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	3. The Wonders of Paint

The Wonders of Paint

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Yeah…I know. I've been addicted to this because of my sister. Actually, I got the idea for this one out of an incident that happened to me—almost exactly as I'm about to write it. But, of course, I don't live in Gotham and I'm not adopted…Just read it.

DISCLAIMER: Okay, in my other stories, and in all their chapters, I write a different disclaimer. But from now on out, I'm just going to tell you I don't own them!

**Important:** Same Robin (Richard), same age, and same time—the beginning of summer when he just got out of school. All the "fun" (troublesome) stuff happens when kids have time on their hands, and what better time is there than that of summer?...

Let's go—

Okay…so he was bored. What else was new for a nine-year-old kid who was stuck in a mansion? Ebony was asleep on his lap, Bruce was in the downstairs office working (with the door locked and closed, no less), and Alfred was out in the garden. Truthfully, Richard didn't know Alfred was also the gardener, but good old Al usually did it for some fresh air and the excuse to walk among the green scenery. Richard wanted to help, but of course…the hose got knotted, he tried to fix it while it was on and…Basically, by Bruce and Alfred both, he was under house arrest until tonight's patrol.

Now it was two…six more hours…

Six was too large a number. He needed something to do—he needed to make up all his trouble to Alfred.

Picking up the small kitten, he laid her over his shoulder and she fell back asleep without any protest whatsoever. Then he started out into the kitchen in search of Alfred's To-Do list which he kept pinned on the side of the top cabinets. He had to climb onto the counter to get it, but it was worth his time.

It was basically all the hard things he "couldn't" do...Vacuuming was out of the question because that thing was uncontrollable. It was heavy—and he could stand heavy—but it was so tall and awkward to handle. He'd probably end up breaking something…There was dusting—and he could do that—but not only did he despise it (having to do it whenever he was bad); Alfred had already checked it off the list. There were the dishes…but those were finished too…Fixing…_he he he_—he'd probably end up breaking something, so No…Painting…

Painting over the old cabinet? It must have been that ruined thing in the back that Alfred was boarding back together. It must have brought back old memories for either Alfred or Bruce to keep it around.

He shrugged—he could paint. He helped in the circus when they made signs and displays.

Re-pinning the list to the upper cabinet, he place Ebony on the counter and jumped down to the floor, racing down the back hall which held all the closets. Ebony was hot on his heels but kept her distance from him when he opened the first closet door he found and looked up to see the paint on the highest shelf.

Yay…more climbing…Not that he was afraid of heights…but he doubted the shelves could hold any new weight.

Well—he was light.

Starting up, he moved quickly until his hand reached the second last shelf from the top. This creaked and began to splinter down the center. This one held the paint, but…

Releasing his grip on the shelf, he jumped down and dodged aside just as the shelf collapsed. An old can of paint fell to the second shelf and tipped over, all the contents falling to the floor…and Richard.

Eyes closed, he wiped his face before shaking out his hands. From head to toe he was covered in a deep, rich colour of red, the same colour that was on the walls in Bruce's office.

Ebony meowed, sitting a safe distance away from the growing puddle of what looked—a lot like—blood. She sniffed it once before recoiling and adding more distance between her and the paint. Bruce was merciful when it came to sneaking pets into the house, but how was he going to deal with paint on the floor? It would take a long while to wash this mess up.

Sighing heavily, he picked up the empty paint can as it rolled from the shelf to the ground, reading the front to see what type it was. It was oil based, so that meant he needed something like Turpentine…and where was that.

Looking around in the shelf, he found on the ground level that there was a clear jug of what read as Turpentine. It had a weird little symbol of a pirate flag, and what was that supposed to mean?

Richard ignored it and opened the lid. It was pretty heavy and he didn't want to spill it—

…But he did…

Half the contents were gone before he could tilt it back up, an odd scent in the air that was giving him a headache now that it was everywhere. But at least it was moving the paint, and that meant he could wash himself off with the stuff too—hopefully before either Alfred or Bruce noticed the mess.

Judging by the scent, he'd have to hurry.

Looking himself over, he noted what a mess he would make of the rug if he walked around just as he was. So, staying on the washable floor, he trailed down the hall to the far closet where all the older rain clothes were kept. From here he took his rubber boots, an old trench coat that just touched the ground when it hung from his shoulders, an old cowboy looking hat, and a pair of gardener gloves to hide the paint covering the whole of his body. But…He grabbed a dark green scarf to wrap around his face, hiding what paint he had there. Hopefully no one saw any paint he was trying to hide.

Thinking things over, he decided that he needed to clean up first in case he was called. Alfred wouldn't go into the hall until he was done gardening, so that would give him time, and Bruce rarely went into the hall—he didn't have any business there.

Grabbing the bottle of Turpentine, he started his trek for the upstairs washroom.

-B-

The smell was overwhelming and he couldn't stand it. He recognized it as both paint and…Turpentine was he second guess. Alfred must have spilt something when he was getting the paint for the old cabinet. It was supposed to be a surprise for Richard, but with him in the house and with a scent that strong, it wouldn't be long before the child went out to find trouble…

Leaving his work at the desk, he stood and opened the door to his office. Alfred would need his help and—

He froze in his tracks, slightly startled by the sight of someone short wearing a trench coat, cowboy hat, scarf, gardener gloves and rubber rain boots in the main entrance as they carried a heavy jug of something with them toward the stairs. Obviously Bruce wasn't seen and he was slightly grateful for that…he was finding it hard not to laugh.

That had to be Richard—and what exactly was he doing?

Waiting until the boy was up the stairs. Bruce strode back toward the way he came to the old hall. The scent was heavy there and he was sure the boy had something to do with it—

He caught his balance just in time and leaned against the wall. He saw that paint, but it was the clear Turpentine that he missed in the darkness. It was now quite apparent that Richard had something to do with this—he was the one probably trying to clean up the mess.

Then what was he carrying?

Turpentine, maybe?...

Oh God.

Startled, Bruce ran back the way he came and dashed up the stairs to the upper floor. Richard had the bathroom door opened and Bruce could hear the bath water running. He just hoped to God that Richard didn't jump in before he got there.

Sliding to a halt in the doorway, the dressed up figure had his back to the door, the jug of Turpentine in his hands—pouring it out into the bath.

"Richard!"

The boy, startled, dropped the jug into the bath and almost fell after it before Bruce caught him from behind. Lifting the boy up and placing him back on the floor besides him, he leaned into the tub and turned off the taps before staring down at his ward.

The extremely small figure was staring at the ground, the rim of his hat hiding his face successfully. The boy probably thought Bruce was angry at him—and he had to admit he was a little upset that the boy was fooling around with the paint—but he was more worried than anything else, and most certainly glad the kid didn't dive into a tub full of poison. If he had gotten even the slight bit in his eyes or mouth…the list went on.

"Sorry…" Richard whispered; his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to make a mess, but I know paint is hard to get out."

"You'd kill yourself with the Turpentine, and besides—I'm sure you didn't get too much on you."

Richard shook his head, still refusing to look up at his surrogate father. "Uh-uh!"

"Uh-huh." Bruce corrected and swiped the hat off his head. "You can't be that—"

Okay…so maybe the kid was right.

Red paint too…looked like he had a blood bath.

Bruce ran a hand through Richard's short sticky hair before pulling the scarf down from his mouth. Luckily, only the right side of his face was covered…but what about the rest of him.

Bruce assisted his ward with taking off the trench coat, gardener gloves and boots; _tisking_ when he saw exactly "how much" had gotten over Richard. The boy could have jumped into a pool of the stuff for all he knew. Wouldn't have made much of a difference anyway…

"Sorry…"

Bruce shook his head, trying to think of what to do. "Well, Alfred is going to have a hay-day with you…"

"No!" The boy squeaked. "Please don't tell Alfred! He'll ground me!"

"And I won't?"

Richard reached out to touch Bruce—but the man stepped back quickly. The boy was grinning. "I'll get you messy." He warned.

Bruce tried to look serious…but had to crack a small smile. "You can try."

And then he was out the door, Richard keeping a steady pace behind him. His first instinct was to get outside, lead Richard to Alfred which was as good as No-Man's Land, but, of course, the quickest way was the dark hall—which he forgot was filled with spilt paint.

Not seeing the puddle until it was too late, he tried to regain his balance as he slid forward like ice, finally slipping too far forward and falling sideways onto his right hips. It was a little painful…but he was more worried about the red paint soaking into his clothes.

Richard, almost forgetting too, slid forward but prevented himself from falling. Being an ex-acrobat, he had all the balance in the world.

Stopping beside Bruce, the man grabbed Richard's left leg and pulled him down into the mess with him. The boy, in protest, splashed up some of the paint toward the cleaner half of Bruce's suit.

"Master Bruce?"

Boy and father halted in the activity, the door at the far end of the hall opening up to the like to show the silhouette of someone entering. Apparently, Alfred didn't see them just quite yet.

"Bye." Richard whispered, quickly jumping to his feet and sliding expertly down to the other end of the hall. He was around the corner before Bruce could stand himself, and by then Alfred had spotted him.

"Master Bruce, what in heaven's name happened here!"

Bruce rubbed the back of his head nervously—getting paint in his hair at the act. "It was Richard." Was the only thing he could come up with to say.

"A most likely story…" Alfred_ tsked_ with a shake of his head, reaching into the opened closet for the mop hidden on the side. This he handed to Bruce. "Blaming something like this on a small boy—really, Master Bruce…"

Shocked, he stood there stunned for a moment. "_What_! I'm telling the truth!"

"I know, sir." Alfred said with a small—omniscient—smile, and he headed down the hall. "I suppose Master Richard is in a mess as well—did you see where he went."

"No, but when you do see him tell him he has to come back here and help me with this."

"I think you can handle that on your own." Alfred said, not bothering to look over his shoulder at Bruce. But Bruce knew he was still smiling. "I think it's about time you got out from that office. Leave the back door opened to air out the hall please, sir."

"And what about Richard? Is he getting out of this?"

"I think a bath is all he'll have to deal with. Make sure you clean up right away sir—that Turpentine will begin to burn after a while."

Staring at his butler's back he waited until he was out of sight before beginning to mop up the mess. He'd need a bucket…

Ebony, sitting at the end of the hall, meowed and laid down, staring at him with content.

"Ya ya—I know." He muttered to the kitten. "But just you wait and see, I'll get my revenge…"

-A-

In the next chapter you get to see his revenge, so don't worry about having to guess or never know the awful things Bruce can do without having to dress up like a bat to do them. I had a similar incident…and I actually ended up bathing in watered down Turpentine. Your skin does burn…and I won't go any further. Just remember to never let wet paint dry on you or your clothes—it'll soak through them and stain your skin! The pain! Ack!

_You'll see me really soon with part two,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	4. Sweet Revenge

Sweet Revenge

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Yep—I had to write this because Bruce is the vengeful type—and if you disagree with that then shame shame! Watch the show…if it still airs…I actually miss it…This is the same summer—same Richard! I don't know why I keep repeating that, but it must be because I load up on sugar in order to write something funny. If you think these stories are hilarious, I must have switched bodies with someone. I swear to God—I can't write humor…honest.

Let's go—

Bruce wasn't the type who picked on children, but a habit of avenging himself and others was something he would never break. It didn't matter how many times he told himself over and over again that Richard was just a little kid who had made that mess by mistake…he couldn't help himself. He—and he learned this from the Joker—had to always have the last laugh. No questions asked—no arguments made—he was the leader and like hell he was going to let some kid get the best of him.

He wasn't going to hurt the kid—nothing that would make him hurt or cry—but he had to do something that would make Richard scream in panic or get so furious that the tips of his ears turned red. And, not to mention, it had to be Alfred-proof, something that he could avoid getting in trouble for much like Richard did when he started to pout and pretend he was innocent and sorry. Richard still had no idea how long it took Bruce to clean up the paint. Then there was the matter of trying to wash it off his body…

Returning home from another late night patrol, Richard stumbled to change and ready himself from bed, stifling a yawn every then and again so no one would worry about him. Alfred always worried and Bruce took advantage of that, sending the boy to bed as soon as possible when he could. When Richard woke of cranky, ever Bruce hesitated to talk to him…

But it was the summer and Richard could think up of more reasons not to go to bed that actually made sense. So, when he was lucky, he would sit in the living room and read a book to the best of his ability, which was rather high when he thought about how hard everyone made him study at school. Bruce took this time to sit on the couch adjacent to the boy and stared at him secretly as he pretended to read the newspaper.

"Is today Sunday?" The boy asked out of the blue, looking up from his book.

Bruce paused. "…It's Tuesday morning, why?"

Richard cocked his head to the side and stared at the newspaper Bruce held, squinting to read the fine print. "Then why are you reading the paper from Sunday?"

Pausing again, Bruce took a shot at a random idea. "I'm reviewing the old stocks."

"Okay…" The boy looked back at his book—and then stared back at Bruce. "Hey, aren't the markets closed on Sunday?"

Good point…

"It was a special day." He muttered. "And how do you know that the markets aren't opened on Sunday?"

"I think you told me…" The boy trailed off but, as tired as he was, accepted Bruce's false excuse and continued to read.

Then Bruce got an idea.

He cocked his own head to one side and stared at Richard hard for a moment as he decided how it would be done. It was actually quite brilliant, and he wouldn't have been able to think it up if it hadn't been for Richard.

Sometimes Richard was too smart for his own good.

-B-

"Watcha do'in?"

Sitting at his desk in the Batcave, currently talking to Alfred, he looked up as his ward started his decent down the stairs toward them. Alfred shot Richard a warning glance at the horrible sentence and Richard corrected himself.

"Uh—I mean, good morning, everyone."—A cough to clear his voice—"What's going on?"

"Break in at an old warehouse." Bruce explained, showing his ward a picture of the place as Alfred walked away, a concerned and disapproving look on his face as he stared at Bruce.

He could know that quickly!

"What'd they take?" The boy asked, the familiar gleam in his eyes when it came to solving a mystery or crime. "Do you know who did it?"

"No clue, but that's why we're checking it out tonight. You're not too tired, are you?"

"Are you kidding?" The kid laughed, handing the picture back to Bruce. "I live for this stuff."

True…

"Oh yeah." Bruce grinned. "I forgot to tell you that you still owe me for the paint.

Richard grinned, savoring the fact that for once he won against Bruce. It was a rare occasion and the pleasant feeling of it wouldn't last for long once Bruce got his revenge.

"I'm just glad it wasn't blue." The boy said, ignoring the fact that Bruce was still slightly angry. "I hate blue."

"Tastes change with age." Bruce sighed, turning back to his work. "Just watch—when you're older you'll ditch the green, red and yellow to switch to maybe…Blue?"

Richard made a face at the thought, but shrugged. "As long as I don't get caught in your morbid style of pure black…" He replied as his sight drifted off to the display cases holding the Bat suit.

"Morbid?"

"Don't play games." Richard laughed. "You look like the Grim Reaper at times."

Bruce shrugged, his ward leaving for the stairs. "That's good—I'm supposed to look menacing to the crooks."

"I meant without the suit."

And then he chased him up the stairs.

-R-

"This the place?"

It was pretty quiet and as dark as hell. The building stood by broken streetlamps and Robin honestly doubted his small flashlight would help him much in this place. From what he could see in the night, it was as broken down and busted as any other place he had been to to inspect and what villain in his or her right mind would pick this dump as his hideout?

Probably a newbie—and that was good, because the younger they were, the easier they were to fight.

"I'll check the upper floors." Batman said in his usual dark tone of voice when he acted as his alter ego. Taking the grappling hook from his belt, he aimed high and took a shot at the building as Robin stared calmly at him. "You start in the main floor—and make sure to check everywhere."

Honest to God, he was contemplating apologizing to the man for the paint stunt, but he really did think Bruce needed to be the loser every once in a while. And so he kept his mouth shut as Bruce shot up toward the roof.

Sighing heavily, he started toward the door.

If he thought the outside looked bad, the inside was even worse. Broken furniture, shattered glass, the occasional beer bottle lying here and then, graffiti just about decorating anything left in one piece—how could any villain hide out here? The was no room!

The heavy scent of alcohol was getting to him and he stepped over a pile of old papers toward the only door on that level. There were really only two levels—the wide open space where machinery once stood and the catwalks above him where workers and inspectors crossed. The door was probably an old office and that could have been probably used for something.

Rats scurried above and Robin stepped back just as one fell to the ground before him. Looking up at one of the catwalks, he saw something black move above followed by the brief shot of two white narrow eyes pinned on him.

There was Bruce.

Robin started toward the far door and opened it cautiously, watching for anything suspicious. But he found nothing. Stepping into the room all he found was a dusty desk and…a small wooden soldier standing upright on top of it. It was perfect—nothing like the dust or alcohol there to ruin it.

Taking one more look around the room, he finally strode over toward the desk and stared at the soldier. In front of it was a little letter, and this he picked up.

_From Bruce—_

_Forgiven._

Oh…so maybe Bruce didn't expect him to apologize out in the open because he didn't either.

Still felt odd.

He sighed and picked up the wooden soldier, wondering why on earth Bruce did that. It was then that he noticed the string tied to the back of it, hissing under strain.

"Aw, shucks."

And the splash of blue paint came crashing down on him from above.

-B-

Finding nothing of importance that night, they returned to the cave where Alfred just about had the scare of his life.

"Master Dick, what in heaven's name happened to you!" The butler exclaimed, looking Richard over as the boy removed his mask. He was covered from head to toe in the beautifully dark blue paint that covered every single last hair on his head. His eyes were protected by his mask and his legs were pretty okay, but that fact that Bruce got revenge on him was still a sour taste in his mouth.

When Alfred left to get the towels, Richard turned sharply toward Bruce and opened his mouth to protest against the prank.

"You look good in blue." Bruce said before his ward could speak. "Matches your eyes."

"I can't believe you!" Richard argued. "That was so uncalled for!"

"But I forgave you."

"Yeah…"

"And you didn't even say sorry."

"Yeah, well I never expected you to pick on a kid."

"Hey—you snuck two kittens into the house. What made you think I wasn't allergic?"

"But still."

"And, besides…it's fun outsmarting a kid."

He expected a comeback but Richard only shrugged and dropped the subject as he ran up the stairs to find Alfred. He said nothing more after that and he didn't return to the cave as Bruce worked on a new case. The whole "abandoned warehouse" thing was a fake—of course, but Robin was such a keen trooper when it came to hunting down the bad guys. It would be just like him to fall into such a trap…

He regretted coming upstairs.

Tired, eyes sore from staring at the computer screen for so long, he finally decided it was time for bed and made his way up the cave stairs toward the main floor. There was a light on in the main entrance to guide him if he needed it, but Alfred should have known by now he didn't need it. He practically saw in the dark.

Richard didn't.

It wasn't until he heard the creak to his left on the tall cabinet that he noticed Richard smiling down on him—pouring the bucket of paint down on his mentor. Paint was fine…but pink?

Jumping down from the cabinet, Richard grinned at Bruce and handed him the bucket of the can. "I might be a kid, but at least I'm smart enough to need a well-devised plan to outsmart me."

An insult…and not too bad.

He could tell why Richard was pretty angry at him. Not only had he been covered from head to toe in blue, but his hair still held some of the colour. In the faint light, Bruce could see the dark rich colour and it wasn't too bad on the kid—but the again, Richard liked his black hair and actually hated blue. It was no wonder he used pink.

And Bruce hoped to God that it wouldn't stain his hair.

"'night." Richard said and strode past him—just as Alfred walked in the other end of the living room.

"Master Bruce!"

"It was Richard!"

Another disappointed shake of his head and Alfred had Bruce cleaning up the mess—again! Richard was a free man once more, "AND" he outdid Bruce twice. That called on for a worse revenge…

Ebony, sitting in the dark on the edge of the couch, cocked her head to the side and meowed.

"I know—I know…you'll see…"

-A-

HA! These are the one-shots that never end! Mwah ha ha ha ha ha! Sorry—just wait for the next one-shot!

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	5. Winner Takes All

Winner Takes All

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Sorry…this is going to be one of those stories that never end. My sister's keep coming up with all these cute scenarios so…yeah…I'm going to be busy. Oh—and I hope you liked the last chapter. I know it must be annoying to do the paint jig twice in a row…or three times in a row, and I promise to never do it again…maybe…but not right now…

Let's go—

Going to the park was something that they rarely did. First of all, their backyard was a practically a park, so why go somewhere else? Secondly, Bruce was always busy and Richard was at school. And thirdly, the moment they relaxed from their normal lives, they jumped up into their alter-egos and prowled the streets in search of criminals and creeps. Who had the time for parks?...

Somehow, Alfred found time.

With Richard out of school, he spent some days locked up in his room reading or playing, or wandering around in the cave doing flips and all those little stunts that scared Alfred half to death. Bruce was now doing more office work at home, nothing big coming up yet until the end of July. The summer was fresh and both the man and his ward were free for something new…even if they didn't want to do it.

Getting them to sit in the back seat together was like putting a bunch of starving dogs in the same kennel. Richard was still upset because his hair was blue, and Bruce was upset because the light pink turned his black hair to a red-dish brown shade. Neither looked too bad…but it was the point of revenge that made them so bitter.

"I'd rather have a nap." Richard groaned, leaning an elbow up against the car door to stare outside. This way he was as far away from the enemy as he most possibly could be.

"I'd rather be working." Bruce grumbled, eyes shifting toward Richard with suspicion. "You can neap at the park."

Richard shrugged. "Yeah, but there I can't lock a door."

The tension was building and even Alfred could feel it from the front of the car.

Arriving was alright. The two foes put on their act to look as normal as they could be with all the people watching them. It wasn't often that they went out to do such a trivial thing as a day at the park, and that meant the paparazzi would be on its way soon to hunt them down and hide in the bushes to take note of every little thing they did.

Alfred was hoping that the thought of the press after them would force them to smile in each other's presence, but the two acted as casually as they could without looking suspicious. They acted calm and relaxed, each more interested with the scenery than each other.

"You're up to something, sir." Alfred whispered to Bruce as he started down a pathway for a walk. Richard was lying under a tree in the shade, sleeping soundly next to the picnic basket Alfred packed. As much as the boy hated naps, not even someone as tried as he could avoid the weariness all children felt near noon. Through this he would be practically vulnerable to anything Bruce did until they ate lunch.

"Hm?" Bruce asked, trying to look innocent. "What do you mean, Alfred? Must I always be up to something?"

Alfred straightened, eyes narrowing as he tried to read Bruce's expression. It was as clear as crystal that Bruce had, indeed, put something together for the day. It was only a matter of time until he deemed the matter right.

"Oh, really?"

Bruce shrugged. "I would never hurt a hair on his hair or do anything to make him cry. Rest assure, Alfred—Richard is safe."

"So it would seem…"

But the old butler was interrupted by a news reporter who stooped Bruce to ask about his brown hair and Richard's…_blue_ hair.

That was another reason the two really didn't want to come.

-R-

"Go away.." Richard moaned, eyelids and body as heavy as lead as someone shook him awake. It was just so warm outside and he was so tried. This would be the fifth reporter to bug him today, and if they dared to mention his hair like all the rest he would—

"Master Richard, it's time to eat."

Oh, it was just Alfred.

Rubbing an eye, he sat up and stifled a yawn. Bruce was…somewhere else, but Alfred was there with him. Bruce would show up when he felt like eating.

"Can't I eat later?" Richard asked, so tempted to lie down again.

"If you want Bruce to get you, then go right ahead."

Oh…that's right.

"What do I do?" Richard muttered, so tired that he was ready to ask for a truce from Bruce to let him sleep. "I ain't got anything planned."

"_Have not _got anything planned." Alfred corrected, and then he shrugged. "You could always go and play, make it harder for him to find you. The park is rather large and I'm sure you'll think of something to do to him along the way."

"Sure…"

He doubted…but who knew?

Alfred opened the basket—and jumped back when ebony popped her head out, meowing before scrambling out to Richard's arm.

Heh…he forgot he put her in there.

Alfred gave him that adult stare…the one Bruce liked to use on Richard when he did something terrible. The man must have learned it from Alfred.

"Convince me a kitten has the power to grab a basket top with her non-existent paws to climb inside, and I will question you no further."

"…" He hated it when people made his tasks so difficult. What, did he look like some sort of young genius who could supply a logic answer to such a question? Honestly… "Ebony's a special kitten." Richard said at last, giving a go at just about anything. "Don't mock her—she's very sensitive to what people think about her."

Alfred tried to look serious at the question, but even he couldn't help but smile. "Eat and then go—but take that cat with you. Just make sure she doesn't run off because I'm sure Master Bruce will permit no more pets in the house."

Like Ebony was even allowed.

He did as he was told and left with his kitten, running from a group of girls when they saw Ebony. Some kids were vicious when they wanted to pet a creature and he was in a hurry. He didn't have the time to stand around to talk when Bruce was planning up some sort of plan…

As long as it didn't involve the colour blue, Richard would survive.

In the end, he was sure he was lost. No more opened fields, and no more picnics set up for families to enjoy their stay at the park. He was stuck on some sort of narrow dirt path with trees suffocating him from both sides, the sky darkening slightly above him to the pale gray of a light rain storm.

Maybe the water would help get rid of the paint.

Ebony ran and pranced alongside him on the ground, now safe from the evil clutches of other younger children. She stuck to him like glue and he was actually starting to enjoy his walk when he heard something off to his right…

Pausing…he recognized it as whistling—whistling a song that Bruce knew. This gave Richard the idea to climb the high tree off to the side. Once he was in the higher branches, he climbed out further and found himself above a small river of sorts. It was murky from the mud, but it wasn't deep or fast enough to drown Richard if he fell in. It was probably waist height to him, but he was a good swimmer…

Why was he worrying about that?

Sitting with a large branch between his legs, he looked down to see Bruce lying directly below him on the small river bank. Well, he was really on a small cliff only three or so feet above the water, but it was wide enough that he could lie down and probably set off on his own to sleep. But he wasn't sleeping…he was staring straight up at Richard.

"Hi." Bruce said plainly, smiling slightly. Now, Bruce didn't smile often and he usually only did when Richard did something highly amusing or if there was mischief at hand. Seeing that Richard climbing a tree wasn't anything new, Richard could tell it was the latter of the two.

"Hi." Richard replied, trying to sound normal. He was surprised at how well his voice was acting for him despite the fact that he was a little scared. Bruce was a tough opponent when it came to games and the man would go through hell to make sure he didn't lose. He was a brutal player…

"Why don't you come down from there?" He suggested; hands crossed behind his head to rest. "It's nice and shady, safe from the rain."

"What rain?"

"The rain that'll be here soon." Bruce patted the ground beside him. "Come down here, Dick. Come and talk to me."

"You can hear me well enough from up here."

"Say what?"

"Besides…" Richard turned on the branch to sit sideways, reaching out to grab Ebony who had climbed up after him, cowering near the trunk. But she was calm in his arms, meowing as she stared down briefly at Bruce. "What do I do with Ebony? I can't leave her up here on her own."

Bruce frowned, not so much that he was angry, but a little surprised that Richard took her along. "I thought we decided that Ebony was going to stay on the property. Do you want her to run off?"

"She follows me everywhere." Richard scratched the kitten behind her ears and she purred, climbing out to his knees and sitting on them elegantly. "And she's a daredevil like me."

"Oh…how so?"

Richard didn't have to answer—Ebony did for him. She jumped off Richard's lap and landed on Bruce's chest, winding him slightly from the sudden impact. She then jumped off him and sat next to him, licking her paw like the move was nothing.

Bruce sat up and scowled, brushing his chest off as he glared at her. "Why did you teach her to do that?" He scolded his son.

"I didn't! Honestly!"

"Sure, sure…"

Richard shrugged and slid farther forward off the branch. "Move, please—unless you want me to land on top of you too."

Bruce jumped to his feet, standing aside and watching up at Richard as the boy slid further forward. Then he was falling, ready to land with a grace of his own—before Bruce shot out both arms and caught Richard beneath the knees and back.

"Hey!" Richard protested, suddenly frightened of the grin on his face. "What are you—"

Too late.

Bruce spun around and threw Richard gently into the river. Sure enough, it was as deep as he imagined and he didn't hit the bottom. But he did get as wet as hell and shot up out of the water gasping from the frigid cold as Bruce laughed. He stared up at Bruce in disbelief at the stunt and frowned instantly at himself for being such a fool. He saw it coming but ignored his instincts completely.

"I was actually going to do you that later on, but I'm glad you came now." He held out a hand to check for the soft drizzle of rain. "Looks like we're going home early."

"That was mean." Richard grumbled, hands holding his shoulders as he warned up.

"You've seen me before." Bruce said, referring to the times they took out numerous criminals.. He could be mean and scary—they were his fortes. "Now come on—Truce." He bent down and extended a hand to Richard. "Come one, kiddo—time to take you home."

He wanted to sleep.

He held out his right hand and took Bruce's. Bruce's pull was powerful enough to take Richard out of the water in the blink of an eye but Richard made sure to brace his feet against the small cliff as he exited the water. Sure he fell back in, but this time he fell back in with Bruce.

"Now that…was mean." Bruce stuttered as he emerged from the cold water, shivering. "I thought we called a truce?"

"I said nothing." Richard stated plainly, climbing out of the water, Bruce right after him. "You just thought that."

"Since when did you become such an imp? I can't believe _you_ are working your way with words to be devious and cruel. It doesn't suit you."

True…maybe he was taking things a little too far.

"Home time, Richard."

"Aw…but Alfred is going to kill us…"

-B-

"It's better to face the music now before it can reach forte, and you know how Alfred can be…"

"Still no truce."

Bruce shook his head. "You just wait and see. I've only gotten back at you for one mishap. If anyone has a right for revenge—it's me."

"That's what you think." The boy frowned, Ebony following him as he started down a small dirt path on his own. "I have to have revenge for someone I trust throwing me into a river."

"Oh, and what of the paint and my cleaning it all up?"

"Hey—you've never had to dust the whole mansion!"

The boy lead his kitten farther and farther away, just out of talking range so that both had to raise their voices (which, you must understand, was misinterpreted by both as the fury of the other).

"I was a kid once too—Alfred gave me the same punishments!"

"And did he teach you how to sew for a three hour long sessions per trouble?"

…No actually, he never made Bruce do that. It must have been to build up patience in the boy…or something like that.

"Thought so!" Richard yelled, ending the conversation.

So maybe he was punished for the paint after all.

---

Alfred took it better than what he thought the old friend would. Bruce and Richard and Bruce cleaned up, went for patrol, came back and cleaned up again. It was about twelve p.m. and Bruce decided to watch a movie in the living room, something Alfred suggested to distract him from his work for relaxation. He also suggested calling Richard to watch it with him, but he knew the boy was still angry at him.

Maybe the dip in the river was a little too much?

"Have you tired apologizing?"

He gave a grumble. Alfred knew he wasn't the verbal type of guy—he preferred showing what was on his mind through actions rather than words.

"Giving him a hug, then?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "A hug? What good does that do me if Richard won't even go near me. He was as quiet as the dead all of tonight while we were on patrol and he wouldn't look at me unless I gave him an order."

"All healthy children are cuddlers." Alfred explained, standing at the counter as he prepared a pot of tea. "When a child is born, the earliest form of affection it understands is the embrace of a parent, the physical contact it makes with someone it trusts. Naturally, that sense of security and love clings to an embrace and stays with them as they grow. When he's in his teens the feeling will flip entirely most possibly, but right now he's still a child." Then the butler smiled. "I bet if you caught him he'd get over it. You know he won't hurt you."

"He'd kick and bite."

"Maybe…but Richard will recognize it as an apology. He'll know and he'll accept it."

Okay…so maybe he would try it, but he was sure there'd be a few extra bruises to tend to after the night were finished…

Richard wasn't in his room or anyway else he would normally be. Ebony was wandering around the house on her own and that meant she had probably lost him too. The child and cat was quite the pair. Maybe it was because Richard grew up in the circus with a lot of different animals. That would explain why they got so attached to him…

Failing to find his kid, he returned to the living room and sat down on the couch, starting the movie which was just some old western film. He liked those and so did Richard...maybe he'd come along later.

In the dark he didn't notice the boy until he stirred. He was curled up under a blanket on the other side of the couch with the stack of pillows Bruce threw there hiding him. He muttered something before a pillow fell off him onto the floor, reaching blinding for it as he refused to open his eyes. He did look awfully tired that night…

-R-

He didn't know there was someone else in the room until they grabbed him around the waist and pulled him up as he scrambled to get back under the pillows and blanket. He realized it was Bruce and was worried for a moment that the man was going to finish his revenge, but instead he was seated on his lap sideways and embraced tightly.

Still upset at the man Richard struggled against his strong arms but found himself giving up quickly, leaning his head on Bruce's shoulder and just relaxing. If this was Bruce's way of apologizing, that was just fine with him. Word weren't exactly trustworthy—actions were.

Besides, action spoke louder than words.

He slid to sit beside Bruce as they watched the rest of the movie but, unfortunately for his age, he fell asleep before he could see the end. Bruce carried him up to his room and he was thankful for that, tucked into the bed quietly were he felt warm and safe. And, for the first night since the first paint incident, Richard slept in peace.

So did Bruce.

…

…

(And don't forget Alfred too.)

-A-

Is it over?...Far from it. My one-shots are the things I do when I reach a reader's block and I get a lot of those. I remember arguing with my dad and then giving him the silent treatment until we apologized. Then there was that thing my mom told me about taking care of my own kids if I ever have them…truth be told, it's been scientifically proven that an infant that is not held as often as it should be when it's young will die—and a child that suffers from the lack of embrace will not be too stable emotionally or psychologically when he or she grows up…So, yeah…Take a second to talk to your kids if you have any. I know we're brats, but we're still really grateful for being on the planet.

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	6. Office Work

Office Work

Alexnandru Van Gordon

I was trying to think of another opportune time to make a comedy…and I came up with another one of my own faults. Come on—don't deny it—we've all had to go to work with our parents once or twice when we're too annoying or really bad. Except, I bet none of you did what I'm going to make Richard do (I myself have tried to do this, but it doesn't work as well as a person would hope for it too). We all have a growing hate toward someone who works with our parents…

Let's go—

All was forgotten and forgiven, but when Alfred was away to visit a funeral and every babysitter Bruce got to watch Richard couldn't handle the boy…well, needless to say, Richard was going to see what he did at the office.

"I'm bored." He muttered, ramming the back of his head against the wall over and over and over again.

"Stop that." Bruce said without looking up from his work. "You'll give yourself a concussion."

"What's that?"

"It's when you hit your head hard enough that you knock yourself out."

"Whatever…" And he stopped…before beginning again. "Can't I sit outside?"

"It's raining."

"But they're puddles!"

Bruce's pen stopped on the paper and he looked up at the nine-year-old boy. "Alfred would have a heart attack if I let you outside with the puddles."

Richard pouted and sat up straighter on the chair. "But you won't even let me walk around the place!" He whined. "And you work until dinnertime—that's hours away!"

"I would…except you broke the water fountain. How exactly do you do that?"

"…Didn't break it…just unplugged it…"

"Uh-huh—and that's why the water sprays ten feet high. If you sit there quietly for another hour, I'll let you take another walk around the building, but I need you to be good when Mr. Sampson comes in."

Now he perked up. "Who's Mr. Sampson?"

"A very annoying man I've been trying to get rid of for the last month." His pen resumed movement. "He's just checking up on some papers and then I'll be free of him forever."

"You really want to get rid of him?"

"Don't get any ideas, Dick."

"Aw, shucks…"

-R-

He made no promises…and that one thought kept him perfectly still and quiet like a good little boy until this so-called Mr. Sampson was led into the office by the secretary. He was a tall man with a handlebar black mustache and a wig—you could tell it was a wig. It was as black as his mustache and lopsided until he corrected.

_God…please help me not to laugh…_

He bit his lower lip as a smile crept onto his face, swinging his legs back and forth from where he sat beside the door. The man didn't notice him until he almost laughed—somehow managing to swipe the smirk off his face when the man turned to look at him.

"You must be Richard." The man said, almost bored. "Bruce's ward?"

Bruce stood from his desk and walked around to the man before shaking hands. "That's right. Which reminds me…" He turned toward his surrogate son and smiled. "You can go now, just stay away from the east side of the building. Seems to be an infestation of spiders or something along the lines of that in that area."

Wicked idea—light goes on—wanna smile cruelly but can't.

He gave a polite smile instead and left the room quietly as the two men began their conversation. Richard didn't like the guy in the least bit—call it intuition or a case of bad vibes, but he really couldn't stand being around the man. It made him wonder how Bruce handled his job as well as he did…

"Hey, Dick." The secretary chimed, looking up from her work to grin. "You going to play or something?"

"Walking." He replied. "But Bruce wants me back in about fifteen minutes. Do you know where he'll be then?"

She pointed her pen down the hall to her left. "The meeting room with Mr. Sampson. They'll be in there for a while, so don't go barging in. Mr. Sampson is going with another company and Bruce wants to make nothing goes wrong when he leaves their small 'treaty'."

He nodded and ran off—toward the east side of the building. He was lying, of course, but Mary would understand. Who liked that Sampson guy anyway? Besides—Bruce couldn't be happier that he was leaving…

Maybe he wouldn't get in as much trouble for that reason alone…

…Doubtful.

---

Getting into the roof was a cinch. The way the ceiling was made was with a set of push-up boards to hide the pipe and the cement floor of the next level. There was a fair amount of space for plumbers and such when a pipe burst or, in this case, for an exterminator to get up there for the infestation. Seemed they had a ton of spiders crawling around the building and they preferred to stay in the ceiling.

He wasn't scared.

Far from it.

Slipping into an empty office, he climbed atop one of the filing cabinets and stood up, pushing a ceiling board aside to climb into the roof. When they talked about spiders, they weren't kidding. One that scuttled past him was as big as his hand and this he caught gently before climbing out, replacing the board carefully.

"Hey there, little fella." He whispered, holding them like he was taught to in the circus. They had a ton of animals and critters for the walk along show in the zoo tents. "Time for some fun…"

-B-

"Just sign here…" He handed the papers to Mr. Sampson, a long read that would take about half an hour to check and recheck for anything the man didn't like. If Richard thought the day was long he should have tried on Bruce's shoes for the day, but hopefully he was behaving himself. The deal was that, if he was good, they would dye his hair back to black once they arrived home. The blue was fading but it could be seen in the light. It actually looked quite nice but…the boy hated blue. Go figure…

There was a thump above them and both head turned up. A second one followed shortly after before silence ensued…

"Just someone working on the pipes." Bruce assured him, sitting back in his chair with a sigh as Mr. Sampson resumed his reading. "We also seem to have spiders in the building."

"I see…" The man's eyes were pinned on the papers, not really listening.

There was a knock on the door and Bruce sighed before calling in whoever it was. Mary slipped inside halfway and beckoned him away for a phone call.

"I'll be right back." He said and left…somewhat curious of what happened to Richard.

-R-

Pushing the board aside, he peered down at the man as he stroked the spider's back. It was a wonder that it didn't bit him, but, then again, he had strange luck with animals. Before he climbed back into the roof, covered from head to toe with dust and cob webs ( and possibly a stray spider in his messy hair), he had gone to the storage room and took one of the worker ropes they used to hold up the carts for washing the higher windows. This he secured around a thick pipe and then around his waist. He wouldn't go too far into the room, but only far enough to drop the spider without getting noticed.

"Lights, camera, action…"Turning onto his back he first slid out just by holding on the ceiling with his bent knees. Then he loosed the rope around his waist and slid further until he was upside-down entirely, a leg wound around the rope to keep him that way. Loosening it even more, he silently slid down a couple of feet more before reaching down the hand with the spider. Biting his lower lip…he let go…

It landed perfectly on his head and he didn't seem to notice. He gave a shudder as though he was a bit uncomfortable, but stayed seated and continued to read. That was good—it would take Richard a while longer to get back up into the ceiling before—

"Sorry about that." Bruce apologized—Richard freezing instantly. Reading some papers, he looked up at the man just as Mr. Sampson signed the signature line at the bottom of the last page. "Thank you for—"

Eyes wide, Bruce paused mid-sentence and stared at the tarantula on the man's head before his eyes slowly moved up toward Richard.

Darn…

-B-

What…the…heck…

"Here you go, Mr. Wayne." Mr. Sampson said; standing and handing him the papers. "I'm running late and I hope I haven't used up too much of your time."

Speechless, he bit his lower lip. "No…problem. Have a nice day…Mr. Sampson…"

"You look ill, Bruce." The man said, heading for the door. "Maybe you should sit down."

"I…think so too…" And he did, back facing the door as Mr. Sampson left. Looking as calm as he most possibly could be, he crossed his legs and held his hands over one knee, sitting sideways to the table as he looked up at Richard. Hanging upside down with a rope tied around his waist and wrapped up along his left leg, the boy remained quiet as the scream of the secretary was heard and then the yelling of Mr. Sampson, cringing slightly as he sighed.

Bruce remained serious, keeping a straight face as he spoke to Richard calmly. "You do know that you're in trouble for this?"

"A lot of trouble?..."

"A lot more than a lot."

"That bad, huh…."

He licked his lips, trying his hardest to speak in a way that held authority but wouldn't make the boy cry. "And….why exactly did you do it?"

"You said you hated him."

"No I didn't."

"You implied it."

"So you decided to attack him with a spider."

"_Scare_ him with a spider." The young boy corrected, sighing again as he continued to hang upside down.

"Ah, scare him….and what did you think would happen after that?"

"…He'd panic and run off."

"What good does that do you?"

"I was seeing how brave he was."

And eyebrow arched. "Why?"

"Brave men do business with you; if they aren't brave then they have no business with you at all."

Ooh….was that supposed to be an insult or a compliment? Hard to tell when you couldn't read a boy's face upside down and a couple of feet above your head.

"So you're saying that I'm mean?"

"In a way, yeah."

"Dick, you won't know what mean is until we get home."

By now the shouting had died down and it was quiet outside in the hall. Hopefully Mr. Sampson was gone and didn't suspect Bruce or his ward of anything, otherwise he's have hell to pay. Then again, Mr. S would have been storming back into the office had he thought it was some sort of cruel joke on his behalf. He was a mean man but he trusted Bruce.

"What are you going to do?" He asked in a quiet voice, looking smaller and more innocent. It was a miracle his face wasn't red yet from the blood rushing to his head, and it was a miracle that Bruce didn't just let the boy get away with it now. It was hard to punish a kid.

But then he grinned.

"Richard, I'm not going to anything too mean. It's what I'm _not_ going to do that you should be worried about."

---

"I hate you…"

Bruce patted Richard's head, the woman he was taking to walking away to speak with someone else. It was another one of his 'get-together's' with the important people of Gotham City. Richard hated having to attend them but he was somewhat used to them—it was a fact that he wasn't allowed to dye his hair back to black for another week that drove him nuts. Not only that, but he was wearing a dark blue suit, something he swore he would never wear.

"You look so cute in that colour." One lady commented, striding by with her husband as she gazed down at the adorable boy beside Bruce. "It matches your eyes."

Richard kept from scowling, but found it hard to do when Bruce elbowed him gently to reply. "…Thank you, Ms."

She smiled and left too like the other woman, leaving the two together with a long eerie silence.

"I hope you know this is far from over." Richard said, voice as deep and as threatening as he could make it. It was quite serious, but Bruce couldn't help but smile.

"Another war?"

"Yep."

"…Bring it on, young man."

-A-

It continues! But I'll be gone for a while because of Finals! They start tomorrow—eek! Yelp! Someone save me…Nah, I'm fine. I'm not nervous, just desperate to get it over and done with so summer can finally come. See you guys around!

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	7. Careful Planning

Careful Planning

Alexnandru Van Gordon

(_Laughing like crazy!_) I guess I should clear up the last chapter. What happened to _me_ was that I ended up coming with my dad to his unit (he's a Captain in the army) and all the guys were yelling orders at each other on the parade square. One guy was looking at me like he wanted to kill me, so I climbed up onto the ceiling boards from one of the small offices with a can of pop. I was going to drop it into his office while he was gone (coming and going unnoticed) but I didn't get too far. Someone found the board loose and fit it back into place, I got lost…and yeah. This guy helped me down and I'm lucky he didn't tell my father. But I think I was…no, I'm sure I was nine. I climbed up on the file cabinets and I think I busted one of the shelves. Darn…that explains so much to me now….

Let's go—

Okay…so he tried to help Bruce out and ended up getting punished. How is that fair? His hair was driving him nuts and summer had only begun…there was still so much time left for him to do something to the guy. Paint was out of the question—too much of that—and getting him soaked had already been done…what could he do that would be so perfect…

He needed Babs…

"You said you needed me, shortie?" Barbra asked, sitting outside with Richard in the backyard. Alfred was out watering his plants again while Bruce worked in his office—the opportune time to put something together, and Richard had just the idea.

He just needed to clear some stuff up.

"You like playing pranks, right?"

"You bet. Who we do'in?"

She was already into it and he didn't even have to say please.

"Bruce."

She paused with a contemplating frown, stroking her chin with one hand. "I see…I always wanted to get back at that man for his stiffness. I think a good kink in his neck would be nice for him—but it has to be extreme, little man! I'm not doing some stupid drop paint on him antic…"

"Done that so far." He sighed. "But I have something big planned, but only if I'm right. Bruce is what they call a…"

"Businessmen?"

"No…"

"Meanie?"

"Yes, but not that…"

"Playboy?"

"Yeah." He snapped his fingers. "What is that?"

She hesitated and arched an eyebrow. "Does it have anything to do with the plan?"

"You bet!"

"Alright then…"

-Al-

Alfred was a noble and loyal man, someone who knew everything on how to be proper ranging from every category. From the way you eat to how you deal with people, and he would not have any nonsense from Bruce or Richard in this household. The occasional pranks were, he had to admit, amusing, but only so-long as the boys cleaned up after themselves. So far the level of pranks had been slowly increasing and he had no idea when either would strike next. He suspected Richard, but what could the boy do that would out-smart Bruce entirely? Unless he attacked the man through someone else…

Richard was a smart boy. He'd probably think of something.

Entering the house after the gardening, he settled himself in the kitchen with the newspaper as water boiled on the stove in the kettle for tea. It was then that the phone rang.

"Wayne Residence." He said politely.

"_Oh, sorry for bothering you, but we have a message for a Bruce Wayne. Is he free to speak?"_

"I'm afraid that he's busy at the moment, but would you be able to leave a message?" He replied to the young woman. Sounded like she had a cold…

"_Certainly, but make sure he receives it as soon as possible."_

"May I ask whose calling?"

"_Oh—the UPH&APO."_

Alright… "May I ask what that stands for, madam?"

"_Unplanned Pregnancy Help and Abortion Pregnancy Organization."_

He froze. "And what would you like me to tell Mr. Wayne?"

"_His girlfriend's test results are in. She's pregnant."_

"Thank you—" He said quickly before hanging up and storming from the kitchen. Bruce was in for it now…

-R-

He sat with Barbra in the living room just beside Bruce's office. Slipping her cell phone into her pocket, they snickered a bit until Alfred came strolling around the corner so fast that a vase almost fell over—and he didn't care to stop and make sure it stayed upright. Alfred wouldn't even knock on the door he was so furious, opening it and stepping inside, slamming it behind him.

"You'd better run now, short-stuff." Barbra giggled as the yelling began. Well, Alfred was really the only one yelling. Bruce was too stunned to say much of anything now and Richard was laughing his head off. "It won't be long until Bruce figures out it was you."

"Won't you get into trouble too?"

"Don't care. Bruce deserves it. Besides—how are they going to know it was me on the phone?"

He nodded and stood, running from the room as Bruce began to gently argue his own case to Alfred, trying his hardest to convince the old man that he hadn't been sleeping around. Richard had heard rumors, but maybe now they would know for sure…

What did he care? His number one worry was what would happen to him now that the deed was done.

-B-

He found himself strolling outside in the garden after he couldn't find Richard. It was night and he was sure the boy was up in one of the trees. To his surprise he was, sitting up high in the branches to watch the stars.

"Touché, Richard…touché."

The boy, startled, almost fell from the tree. He stared down at Bruce…a little worried now that he had been found out. "How'd you know?"

"Went to the kitchen phone and pressed re-dial. Barbra came up and…you get the picture…"

God that kid had done it good…The moment Alfred strode into his office he thought there was a fire somewhere in the house. The facial expression suggested otherwise. It wasn't easy to get Alfred angry, and when he started accusing him of getting some girl he wasn't married to pregnant he let Bruce have it. It was like Hell rose up to earth. He was, for the most part, speechless.

It was when Alfred said that it was the UPH&APO that called, the first clue was given away. That was in Canada, not America. When he went to the kitchen phone and re-dialed, Barbra was the first to pop up, chiming and as cheery as ever until she found out she was talking to Bruce. Well, Bruce called up her father and through him got the news that Richard was behind the plan. Both kids were foolish to try such things…but also quite clever. Richard actually had Bruce as a nervous wreck.

"What does touché mean?" Richard asked as Bruce climbed up the tree, sitting next to him on the large branch.

"It means, well counter-attack. I attacked you and you got back at me just as well—or even better—than how I got you. It's a compliment."

"But I'm still in trouble?"

"You bet."

"Now?"

"…Nope. It's like they say in the movies—revenge is best served cold."

Richard shivered.

-A-

Gotta go write my Social Final now. I hope you liked this chapter and yes…this is the never-ending war—and NO, I did not try this on my own. I'd be long dead if I did…

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	8. Innocent Justice

Innocent Justice

Heh—I really wished I had tried this when I was younger, but I didn't even sneak kittens into the house. Though I do have a really small black puppy named Nancy and she inspired me to write the first chapter about the kittens. She reminded me about something else in the comic universe and I have to give credit to her for inspiring me once again. Hope you like revenge…

Let's go—

Bruce was smart, and that wasn't just a fact. He knew that the best way to get back at Robin while avoiding any and all trouble was to do it…passively—indirectly. He had to make it as innocent as he could, but _just_ as well in case Alfred stepped up to bat. The older man was sorry for the mistake about the pregnancy gag…but he was in for no nonsense from the boys. Sooner or later he was going to start setting up security cameras in ever crook and cranny of the mansion. But that might be a good thing, seeing that it would probably stop Richard from sliding down and flipping over the railings…They were growing old, after all…

He sat at his desk one day, staring as Ebony slipped in through the crack in the door and jumped up onto his lap. Automatically he started petting her head as she began to fall asleep, leaning back in his chair as he stared at the far wall. Richard was up in his room reading or drawing like he did when it usually rained and Alfred was somewhere around the house doing something, leaving Bruce to his peace. He was finished with the day's work, earlier for once considering it was three in the afternoon, and that left plenty of time for planning…but what could he do? He had to make it look as though it was for a good case. That was the only way he'd pass it off by Alfred…

Well, when you can't think of a way, think like a kid…namely Richard…

-R-

The night patrol was as exciting as ever…but not quite as nice as he would have wanted it to be. Returning home, soaked in blood, Alfred just about had a heart attack over the sight of him.

"What on earth happened!" The old butler exclaimed as Robin jumped out of the car, kneeling on one knee to inspect him. "Where are you hurt—how did this—"

"Relax, Al!" Robin giggled. "Not mine…not that that's a good thing, but Bruce hit a guy too hard in the mouth when he tried to grab me…Yeah. See? I'm fine."

The butler sighed heavily and stood, taking the boy's tiny hand into his own as he turned to Bruce. "Well…it looks as though this may take a while to clean him up…Sir? Where are you going?"

Bruce was jumping back into the mobile, firing up the engine again. "I'll be back in a short while, Alfred. There's just something I forgot to check. Have Richard cleaned and ready for bed—I don't want him getting sick from whatever that guy has in his blood. Take a sample of his own blood and I'll check it when I get back—Bye!"

Robin gapped, watching with just as much confusion as Alfred as the man sped away from the cave. It must have been really important for him to leave that quickly…but hey, he lived his life only to better that of others. He was, in that sense, a very busy man…

"Let's get you ready for bed." Alfred sighed, looking the boy over as Robin stared back up innocently at him. "Let's just hope you don't get that anywhere around the house…"

---

He fell asleep fairly well and was surprised that he slept in. The clock beside his bed read ten am when he woke and the sun was streaming in onto his bed through the cracks in the curtains. Alfred was probably out shopping for groceries or something, otherwise he would have woken him long ago, but what about Bruce?...Should be back to working in his office….as always…

Yawning, he sat up and scratched his head at the sound of scratching at the door. That's right…he forgot to take Ebony into his room after he washed up last night. She usually slept on the edge of his bed or on the pillows by his head but he couldn't find her last night. It almost worried him that Bruce had gotten rid of her out of revenge, but even that seemed to cruel for…Well, when you considered what Richard did to him, there was no real way of calling it cruel. Richard would deserve it to the last bit.

But that was too obvious. Bruce liked to pick the best revenge for getting even.

"Coming, Ebony…" He muttered, yawning again as he pulled back the covers and jumped out of bed. Running to the door he opened it quickly—and jumped aside when Ebony bolted into his room.

"What's gotten into you?" Shaking his head he walked into the hallway and kept the door opened for the kitten to follow. She, on the other hand, was crawling beneath the warm covers…almost frightened. "Looks like you saw a do—"

_ARFF!_

Richard jumped again, and halted when he saw the small dog stop at the end of the hall. It was black with a few scratches here and there on its body as though it had been beaten. It could have been a fighter dog…looked tough enough for a little fellow.

Despite how cruel it looked, the excitement in its eye and the tongue hanging out the side of its mouth as it barked delightfully was what made Richard run back into his room. Slamming the door behind him, he could hear the dog slid to a halt outside his room and scratch at the wood for entrance. Whining and barking, the dog stayed out there for a long time…even long after Richard dressed and laid down on his made bed with Ebony asleep on his chest. He couldn't hide up in his room forever…and nobody was going to come and get him with that dog out there. They would call him a coward for being frightened of such a creature but he wasn't frightened. He just didn't want it pouncing on him.

After an hour of silence he decided that the dog was somewhere else in the house. It was as quiet as the dead and still no one else was heard…

Either now or never.

Leaving Ebony on his bed to sleep, he opened the door an inch and peeked through the crack into the hall. He was right…the dog was gone.

Meowing in annoyance, Ebony jumped down from the bed and followed him out into the hall. There was no sign of the creature as far as he could see and maybe he could grab something for breakfast and run down into the cave for the rest of the day. He was sure that there was some work on a case he could do.

Watching as Ebony scampered down the hall, he followed quickly and stopped at the stairs. He must have made it down two steps before he heard the panting.

Turning around slowly, he stared at the small black puppy with its wide eyes glued on Richard as if he had never seen a boy before. It barked once before taking after him, Ebony screeching like crazy and almost falling down the stairs as she scrambled into the living-room and Richard sliding down the stairwell railing like he usually did. Almost falling on the smooth floor at the end, he paused only briefly before taking off at a sprint down the hall toward the kitchen.

"WHO OWNS THIS DOG!" He yelled as it followed in hot pursuit. He came into the kitchen and jumped directly onto the table, scampering backwards as the dog tried to jump up too. Taking quick, deep breaths, he crossed his legs and waited until the dog calmed…before leaning forward to see if it was still there…

It sat kindly on the kitchen floor, mouth closed and both ears perked up to listen. Short-haired, long-legged and slim, it looked as though it would grow into a Greyhound or something of the sort, and for the moment it looked quite proper in posture. The pup could have fooled anyone with the excited behavior it had shown before…

"Bruce sent you, didn't he?" Richard muttered. The dog cocked its head to one side in reply and the boy licked his lips in thought. "Yes? No? I only know French, German and Italian, so cut it out with sign-language." Truth be told, he had learned a little more than that in his days with the circus. They spent the majority of their traveling time in Europe anyway so it was a wonder Richard didn't have an dialect.

He had to prove it that the dog was Bruce's idea.

Not too shabby of an idea either…What was it Bruce called it? _Touché_?

"I need help…" he sighed. He had to get to Bruce, but where would he be? He had no idea if he was at the office or in his den in the house—or maybe he was even in the cave…

"_Meow?_"

Thank God for Ebony.

The cat sat idly in the kitchen doorway just in the dog's view before she sprinted away with the creature along for the chase. That gave Richard enough time to jump off the table and dash into the living room before he saw that the dog had suddenly lost interest in his pet and decided to take over the boy.

"No!" Richard yelped and started off again in any direction he could find. It was like hell trying to scramble around the corners, slipping every time he turned too sharp. He saw an opened door and just slid inside, slamming the door shut without caring where he was.

Breathing heavily, he leaned against the door with his back and closed his eyes to think. Thank God he was safe, but what about Ebony? And where was he going to find Bruce?

"Something wrong, Dick?"

He eyes darted up suddenly in the dark room and fixed on Bruce as he stood up from behind his desk. The fire in the fireplace was just about the only light in the room but it was comfortably warm, considering it was raining cats and dogs outsides (cats and dogs—ha! So darn corny…please excuse that…). Bruce always retreated to his office for work or peace and quiet, but he could be such a bastard when it came to hiding from his pranks.

"You did this to me on purpose!" Richard exclaimed, a ting finger pointed accusingly at his mentor. "And Ebony! You know cats don't like dogs! I learned that when I was little, so you have no excuse!"

"You still are little."

"…So?"

Bruce shrugged, coming close to Richard and sitting on the couch beside the door. Richard simply stood his ground and eyed the man cautiously.

"You're young—little boys like pets. I thought a dog would be a nice addition."

He narrowed his eyes. "And what about Ebony, huh? She doesn't like dogs."

"Says who?" Bruce laughed. "We're a strong family. Maybe it would do her some good to get over her fears before she grows up."

"She lived in the streets."

He paused, looking at the fire with thought. "Hm…so you're right…But still—"

"Alfred's not going to let you keep him!" Richard argued with whatever excuses he could think of. There was no way he was going to let Bruce get away with this. "That dog is crazy! He'll destroy everything in the house."

"Not if we house train him. Besides—I think he likes you."

"No he doesn't! He wants to eat me!"

"Is that the case now? So many excuses…"

Rage was boiling inside of him now. Bruce was most certainly NOT going to get away with this. Richard was going to fight tooth and nail against the dog if it was the last thing he did.

Bruce slid over on the couch and Richard sat down beside him on the end near the door. "You can't keep him." He warned. He knew Bruce was going to try and talk his way out of the situation, but Richard was going to stand against it no matter what happened. He didn't want that _thing_ to eat Ebony.

"Says who?" Bruce chuckled. "He's my pet and this is my house. He stays if I want him to and there's nothing you can do about it, kid."

"Ebony—"

"You can call up your friend Matthew to find a new home for her."

He gapped… "You can't be _serious_! You're just doing this for revenge!"

Bruce stopped and stared up at the ceiling. After a long moment's pause he nodded and looked back at Richard. "Actually…yes. That's the just of it."

"But that's so mean!"

Grinning, Bruce nodded again, stretching out his arms and laying them on the back of the couch. "I know. Isn't it? I guess that's why it's so sweet."

Richard, devastated, folded his hands nicely over his lap and stared at them with watery eyes. "But…but…you can't take away Ebony. She hasn't done anything wrong….It's all my fault…you can't punish her…"

Bruce looked down at the head of his ward and continued to grin. "Then there's only one thing to do…"

Hopeful, Richard stared back up at Bruce. "What?"

Grabbing Richard by the hips, Bruce slid him onto his lap and moved toward the edge of the couch. Keeping one arm around Richard's waist so couldn't get up; he reached with his free hand toward the doorknob.

"No!" Richard shouted, panicking and trying to break free from Bruce's iron grip. But he couldn't get up. "Please don't let it in here, Bruce! PLEASE!"

Too late. The door creaked opened and the dog, who was lying quietly outside the office, stood up at once and bolted into the room. It stopped by their feet and Richard, still frightened, suddenly froze.

"No…." He moaned.

Excited, the puppy jumped up onto his lap and leaned against his chest with its front paws. As Richard yelled for help the dog persisted in licking his neck and face until the boy was laughing.

"See…" Bruce said in a soft, deep tone of voice. "I told you you'd like him."

The dog, finally winning over the boy, sat down beside Bruce and laid its head gently on Richard's lap. Bruce, staring over his son's shoulder, began to stroke its fur with the boy's help. The two sat quietly there for a while, watching as it fell asleep.

"Watcha gonna call it?" Richard asked, stopping only when Ebony crept into the room and leapt up onto the couch armrest. Staring silently at the new pet, she laid down and turned her eyes on the two humans.

"Hm…Ace."

"Why Ace?"

"…the ace of spades was black."

"A winning card?" The boy asked in confusion.

"He won over you, didn't he?"

"And Alfred?"

"…That's why I'm hoping he lives up to his name."

-A-

I'm not done yet! I just remembered Ace and since I added Barbara I knew I had to add him—sew me! But the trouble continues…as soon as I get to my laptop at my dad's house this weekend.

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	9. His Revenge

His Revenge

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Sometimes I really don't understand the nature of revenge. Don't you ever wonder on the odd days why a person _must_ have the last laugh—the final winning blow? It only continues the cycle—there is no winning blow. And what about the other people around you? They get hit numerous times by a person's carelessness and that makes them more than deserving of a share in the game. Hence, the circle grows…

In short—do you know whose turn it is for revenge?

Let's go—

It was HIS turn for revenge. He counted over all the shots at least a million times and he determined, based on the level of the previous revenge taking, he was, in fact, due for his turn. And the deal was: if he didn't have his revenge now, he'd be lost in the game.

That meant a mind was set to work at once…

-R-

The dog was annoying and it would take some more time for Ebony to warm up to it wholly, but Richard was eventually befriending Ace without the aid of Bruce. The dog still followed him around even though he didn't want it to, and there were times when it startled the heck out of him, but it didn't chase him or jump on him like it did before unless Richard reached out his hands toward it and knelt to hold the small puppy. Its breed suggested that it would grow faster than Richard, and it was easy to see that was true by how large it had grown from the pictures Bruce had shown him. Five days and it was already almost seemed to grow larger.

"Here, puppy." Richard called, sitting in the living room with Ebony asleep on his lap. Ace was running around the coffee table in his excitement, waking from its own nap just a short while ago.

"Call him Ace." Bruce instructed, reading his newspaper and turning to the next page. Richard stared across the room at where he sat and rolled as eyes as the man said what he always did. "You have to get him used to his name."

Ace, although his name was called, answered to Richard all the same and lied down by his feet. He had already been taught not to sit on the couch, seeing that he would be such a large dog and Alfred didn't want it shedding on the material. Rugs you could vacuum, couches were a different story…

Unexpectedly, the grandfather clock tolled twelve o'clock and Richard almost threw Ebony across the room as he stood. The cat, instead, fell on Ace and the two went running away into the hall after the shock. One thing Richard could describe about the two…both were jumpy.

"Where are you going?" Bruce asked, still not staring up from his newspaper as Richard strolled from the room. Despite his accidents with the paint, Alfred had actually allowed him to paint an old shelf he was putting in his room to hold his ever growing pile of books. It had taken him endless hours to paint it the same deep colour of red he almost spilt from the last can and all of it was used up in the project. Oh well—hard work always paid off and today it should be dry.

Taking the long hallway to the back, he strolled down happily toward where he kept the painted shelf upon old newspapers for drying. When he got there, however, he just about had a heart attack.

"What happened to it!" He exclaimed, staring at the blue shelf. It was still damp from someone painting over it and not an inch of red was left for the human eye to see. And he thought he had gotten rid of that colour…heaven only knows the dye just finished getting washed from his hair the other night.

Panicking, the boy ran from the room to find the good butler, humming away in the kitchen as he made the soup for lunch.

"Who touched my shelf/" Richard asked immediately, standing next to Alfred just below his elbow and successfully giving the old man a good start. He stared down at the boy with all honesty and shrugged.

"Master Bruce said he was going to add a few finishing touches to it after you left it the other day. Why do you ask, sir?"

Furious, Richard stormed from the kitchen without the slightest answer, running off to find the fiend of the trick. It was his turn, after all, to get back at Bruce for the dog stunt. What was he doing? Trying to get ahead of Richard in the game or something.

"_Bruce_!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. He was going to find him…he was going to find him and get back at him all right…

-B-

Finishing with his paper, he folded it neatly and tucked it under his arm as he made his way to his room. He wanted to rest for a while, losing much sleep after last night's patrol, and the only way a person could nap in the house without the dog jumping them (unless you so happened to be nature boy, Richard) was to sleep in your own room with the door closed. He wouldn't sleep for long though. Then Alfred would begin to worry and try to talk him out of going on tonight's patrol.

Yawning, he grabbed his doorknob and stepped inside the large room—not quite expecting what he saw next. Every that could be moved by one person alone was turned upside-down. The pictures he had on his shelves where turned around, paintings on the walls—even the ones he couldn't touch without a ladder like the one above the fireplace, were turned at odd angles in other directions, and everything else was somehow balanced in other ways then they should have been. It must have taken hours to do all that and ity would take him possibly just as long to undo it all…

Grumbling, only one fiend could come to mind,

"_Richard_!"

-R-

Of all the places he found him, the cave was the place to check. In fact, it looked as though Bruce was searching for something when he got down there and the boy didn't even wait until he was off all the steps to the cave before he jumped the man. Back to Richard, the kid jumped and latched his arms around his chest, pinning his arms just at the shoulders to his sides. Bruce almost fell from this, once again rarely caught by surprise as he stumbled toward the practice mats for sparring.

"What are you doing?" He grunted, slowly prying Richard's tiny hands away from his grip. It wasn't too hard to do actually, Richard could barely hold his hands around Bruce anyway on the count that he was so small.

"Revenge!"

"Yeah right—the dog wasn't that bad. Besides, the last prank was just a little too much considering what you did to me. I think I should get two turns."

Richard thought back to the Pregnancy joke but furrowed his eyebrows at the comment. "And setting a dog on me is fair play?"

"Is attacking me from behind fair either?"

Richard, feeling that Bruce was going to pry his hands free at any given moment, gave him a good knee to the kidney. "Anything on the mats is fair—you said so yourself. And what else would I have done? Let you jump me?"

Hell no—Dick wouldn't be able to hold the weight.

Bruce, rolling his eyes after the pain subsided in his side, knelt on one knee to lessen the fall and then threw Richard over his shoulder. The boy land directly in front of him on his back, right arm still in Bruce's tight grip from the flip.

"Oh? So it's the rules we're provoking now? If you want to fight on the mats, them I guess I can say that I'm in the mood for teaching you another lesson."

Richard panicked at the sound of that and scrambled to free his arm from Bruce's grip. There was no use in that. Bruce slid him closer and, sliding his left hand under the boy's back and flipped him onto his stomach. Then, before he could move, took his right hand and folded his arm behind his back, wrist pinned between his protruding shoulder blades.

"Hey—let go!" Richard exclaimed, back arched in an attempt to pull his arm free. "This isn't fair!"

"Here's a good lesson. Pin the wrist of the captive higher up and it makes it harder from them to pull free, guaranteed." Then he noticed Alfred walking down the cave stairs with a tray of his soup. "Hey—can you reach into the second last compartment of my utility belt and hand me the short rope and the cuffs, Alfred?"

"What!" Richard squeaked. "Don't listen to him, Alfred—he's evil—Ow! Quit pulling before my arm breaks!"

Bruce ignored his ward and held out one of his hands to catch what Alfred tossed him, the other hand holding the boy's hand in place as he tried to move away. His other arm was stretched out far in front of him to keep it away from Bruce, but Bruce's reach was longer and caught his left wrist without much trouble. Arm twisted down and around, the wrist joined the first soon after and were caught together by the click of the cuffs.

"Let go—let go—let go!" Richard continued to yell as he endlessly struggled under his captor's weight. While one hand held his writs in place, the second one grabbed an end of the rope and slipped it under Robin's chest. It followed a couple more times until Bruce tied the two ends together behind his back, securing his hands caught between the shoulder blades.

"There…almost finished."

"What?" Richard, having thought that that was the end, writhed again as he was lifted off the ground and thrown over Bruce's shoulder as easily as a pillow. There were great disadvantages that came along with weighing half of what you should have.

"You're going for a time out." Bruce explained, passing by his workbench to pick up another rope from his belt. Then he took Richard over to a chair and sat him down, winding this rope around his upper body to keep him seated against it.

"I'm too old for a time out!" He complained, still trying as hard as he could to break free. Bruce ignored him and dragged the chair over to a corner of the room near the main computer where he himself sat down and began researching up information on their next case.

"You're nine." Bruce muttered. "And you can either sit there for you're hour quietly or I'll gag you. You're choice."

Richard fell silent, frowning so hard that you could have sworn if looks could kill…"If you hadn't painted it blue I wouldn't have attacked." He said at last before giving into his punishment.

And that was all he needed to say.

"What?"

Richard shook his head. "Don't act dumb—I spent hours on that shelf and you painted it over in blue!"

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you did!"

"You turned everything in my room upside-down!"

"How? If you haven't noticed, I'm not too tall. I can't even reach the top of your large shelf."

Then it dawned on them both.

Bruce stood at once and walked over toward the soup, just now noticed the small letter folded by the bowl, Alfred already long gone up the stairs to the main floor.

**My turn at last,**

**-Alfred**

"Go figure…" Bruce chuckled and Richard rolled his eyes.

"If it was him would you please let me go?"

"Heck no."

"Why not! I'm innocent!"

"You still jumped me."

"….Darn…."

-A-

This was just a little mid-point in the story for poor Alfred's sake. I started feeling bad that he had to deal with those two this entire time…so…yeah. He had his share of the fun for just right now. Maybe even some more later.

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	10. Getting Even

Getting Even

Alexnandru Van Gordon

My little sister's sick, so instead of jumping to another Not Again chapter I promised her I'd write a chapter for this. It's her favorite story anyway and family comes first, so…

QUICK NOTE: Same summer, same Richard Grayson, same trouble. Alfred took the last shot when he painted Richard's shelf blue, turned everything in Bruce's room upside-down, and turned the two momentarily against each other to evade getting caught.

**And big credit goes to my older sister** who gave me this prank.

Let's Go—

An hour seemed longer that what it usually should be when you were tied up to a chair in a dark old cave. Bruce must have lost track of time because Richard ended up spending three and a half hours tied up—that, or Bruce was just trying to be mean without getting caught for it. Nonetheless, nine-year-old took his undeserved punishment like a man quietly and didn't say a thing or try to escape. After all, it'd only give Bruce another reason to keep him tied up longer.

With a sigh, Bruce finally turned away from the main computer and stood, walking over to his captive and freeing him at once. "What to do about Alfred…" Bruce sighed, pulling out a set of keys from his pocket to unlock the cuffs.

Richard rubbed his wrists and stretched his arms, grateful to move again. "Nothing."

Bruce arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean: nothing? He just prank-ed us both and landed you up in a pro-longed time-out."

"The time out was your doing." Richard frowned and crossed his arms stubbornly. "But it's only fair for Alfred to have some action. He's had to put up with us."

"True…" Bruce slowly nodded. "But I thought this would be the perfect time for an alliance. I know you like your tricks. Why not help me devise something against Alfred?"

"Duh—because he's old. You'd give the poor guy a heart attack!"

"I see…" Bruce stroked his chin thoughtfully and turned back toward the main computer, bent on scanning over more clues left at last night's crime scene. Richard, on the other hand, ran upstairs in hope of finding something warm to eat, seeing that he missed lunch entirely.

---

"That's so mean!"

Richard nibbled on his grilled-cheese sandwich, sitting beside Barbara and across from Alfred in the kitchen, the old man sipping from tea with a smug expression across his face. Barbara was down for a visit (really want "in" on more of the action going down at Wayne Manor) and she was to hyper to shut up.

"Well…Bruce is always kind of grumpy and mean." She added. "And good job, Alfred. I'm glad to see you took a stand."

The butler nodded thankfully and placed his tea cup down on the table. "I suppose he wants to get even now."

"Wanted to." Robin interrupted. "But I might have been able to persuade him not to."

"Oh?"

"Well…I told him it wasn't fair." And he left out the 'old' part for the sake of Alfred's pride. The butler knew hired hands were replaced once they grew too old, even though he had an insured future working at Wayne Manor. It still wasn't nice to worry the man.

Barbara, all giggly and gitty with excitement, poked Richard gently in the arm. "Oh—watcha gonna do? I mean—first he ties you up somewhere in the house for no apparent reason and then he leaves you like that for a couple of hours! You're lucky he didn't lock you up in some dark room…"

His mind drifted back to the cave, but he left that part out of the story. After all, Barbara had no idea that Bruce and Richard were really Batman and Robin.

"I don't know…" Richard answered honestly. "I'm running out of ideas.

Barbara looked as though she had a heart attacked. "You've got to be joking me! And this is the kid who came up with the pregnancy stunt? Come on, Dick…there's got to be something you can do…ANYTHING! Oh—and I want to help!"

"As do I." Alfred smiled gently. "I must admit it was rather satisfying to see a trick follow out as planned. It was—if you'd forgive me saying so—most…entertaining…"

"Okay…and it has to be something big to make up for everything so far…but what?"

Barbara grabbed his arm so tight in that instant that Richard thought for a moment she was going to break it. "I got it-I got it-I got it!"

"OW—WHAT?"

"You know how they're having that banquet at Wayne Enterprises for that…genetic discovery thingy going on in labs?"

"You mean the human evolutionary and mutation stuff?"

"Yeah—the ones where they have like advanced cancer and pregnancy tests, and all that whatnot? Aren't they giving a few free trials to some people attending?"

Richard paused… "Oh…I see where you're going."

Alfred, still lost, sipped again from his tea. "We can't tell them to fake a test. That would ruin their reputation in the genetics department."

"We're not…" Richard began to smile. "But all this depends solely on perfect timing. Now—does anyone know Mr. Fox's phone number?"

-B-

Silence in the mansion was almost unbearable. It either meant that the war was over or something terribly wrong was going to happen before he realized what hit him. But perhaps not tonight. Tonight was the banquet.

Straightening his bow-tie, he sped across the house in search of Richard. Much to his surprise, the boy was sitting in the kitchen happily munching away at the fully loaded poppy-seed cake that he and Alfred baked early. He sat on one of the high stool, legs swinging back and forth merrily as he hummed and finished off his piece of cake.

"Come on, Richard. We're going to be late."

The boy swallowed and frowned. "We're going to be _early_, and this just cooled down enough to eat. I'm hungry."

"They will be plenty of food at the banquet." Bruce rolled his eyes. "Besides, you can have that tomorrow morning for breakfast."

"Uh-uh—we're giving the rest to Barbara because she couldn't stay and make it with us. So…" He put another slice onto a separate plate and slid it down the table toward Bruce. "Here you go."

Bruce laughed. "Like I'm going to fall for that. What did you put in it? A sedative?"

Richard sighed heavily in an annoyance and stood, grabbing the plate and cutting off a piece with his fork. This he ate and looked back at Bruce. "You're such a baby. It's just a poppy-seed cake—nothing new or interesting about it. You can even ask Alfred. And look—I'm not changing colours or anything!"

Well…he did like poppy-seed cake. It had been a while since last he tried some and one piece wouldn't hurt…

One piece turned to three and both of them sat at the table laughing for at least a good hour before Bruce realized they _would_ be late if they didn't leave soon.

"Okay, chum, we've got to hit the road."

"Ouch." Richard giggled. "Wouldn't want to do that."

"Ha ha ha—very funny. Come on."

And despite the feuds that had lasted for the last two weeks, Richard had made a solemn promise to behave himself on any important outings. That was where Bruce drew the line and Richard knew better than to push his buttons when it concerned work.

The banquet, to say the least, was pretty boring as far as sitting to chat and eat went. The Commissioner was there along with his niece Barbara who took Richard off his hand almost immediately after they arrived. Bruce was almost sad to see him go. AT least he made the conversations interesting.

It wasn't until he met up with Dr. Lessing that Richard and Barbara returned laughing to their table. She was telling a joke about a man who climbed up a mountain or something like that…

"Ah, Mr. Wayne, it's good to see you." Dr. Lessing held out his hand and Bruce shook it kindly. The two were friends and Dr. Lessing's work was far advance that what Bruce had ever seen before. Whatever the young man created turned out to be a success.

"So, how goes everything?"

The doctor smiled. "Fine. I have my speech in a short while and I've been handing out samples for anyone who'd care to try them. These things can figure out anything from a malfunction in the any part of the body to whether or not you're immune system is weak enough to let a cold drop by next week." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out three thin pieces of paper. "They change colour for the big stuff; cancer, whether or not a mother's child has something wrong with it, but for some of the harder stuff I have to check it up in an array of very boring experiments."

Bruce took one and looked it over. "Like litmus paper?"

"Yeah—you can test it if you want."

Bruce grinned. "See if I have a cold next week, eh?"

"Cool!" Richard gently took one from the doctor and stared at it curiously. "I know what litmus paper is. But how does it work on a person? Do we spit have to spit on it?"

"Um…" The doctor seemed to blush. "Actually…well…you have to take it like a pregnancy test. And I don't know if you know—"

"Oh—I know what it is." Richard said, still staring at the paper. "Barbara told me."

The girl choked on her water right then and there, spitting it out across her plate as she lifted a napkin to her face. Her uncle, Bruce and Dr. Lessing all gave her an odd look before breaking out in laughter.

"Jeez, you guys are weird." Richard muttered. "I mean, I just have to get my stuff on it. What's so funny?"

Bruce shook his head, clearing his throat after laughing so hard. "As long as Barbara doesn't tell you anything else you don't need to know until you're old enough, I'll let this pass."

Richard shrugged and simply ran off to find a restroom.

"So these are a hundred percent accurate?"

"It's all about reading chemicals. Unless you've been eating lead, I don't see why anything should be inaccurate."

Lead poisoning….alright.

He nodded and left to follow Richard.

---

"It says that you're pregnant."

Bruce nearly feel out of his eat, sitting in Dr. Lessing's office. Richard, who was drinking a glass of water next to him, choked much the same as Barbara had done earlier that night.

Dr. Lessing was absolutely stunned. "Did you drop it in anything?"

"No!" Bruce exclaimed. "I went straight to the restrooms, did the test, and came straight back to you!"

Dr. Lessing shrugged. "Then there must be something wrong with you. You were in China a couple of months ago on business, weren't you? Did you eat any strange meals or pass out after drinking too much…"

He scratched the back of his head. "Well…a little of both—but I can't be pregnant! I'm a man!"

"You wouldn't be our first case." Dr. Lessing admitted quietly. "We had a woman here a year ago who…_changed_…"

Then Richard began to laugh. So hard, in fact, that he struggled the breath, leaning forward in his chair, after placing his glass of water on the desk, and holding his stomach tightly.

"Care to tell me what's so funny?" Bruce muttered. Just wait until the news got a hold of this…

"Because…the look…your face…" He began to cough before laughing again. "You actually….believe…"

Bruce paused. "What do you mean I actually believe I'm pregnant?"

"Cause…" Richard laughed himself away a little more before calming, wiping away a tear. "In that case…" He reached into his pocket and handed his sample to the doctor, it being the exact light colour of purple as Bruce's. "…then I am too."

The doctor sighed and rolled his eyes. Smiling. "What did you eat before you came to the banquet?"

Bruce paused. "…A heck of a lot of cake…"

"What type of cake?"

"Poppy-seed." Richard beamed brightly. "And tons of it!"

The doctor broke out laughing as did Richard and Bruce hesitated as he thought about it. "So…poppy-seeds affect the test?"

Dr. Lessing nodded. "Woman are usually warned not to eat certain food before taking a test because it may change the result. Anything with poppy-seeds in it is just one of those things."

Bruce was aw-struck…Richard was actually able to make him believe he was pregnant? That was…that was pretty clever but also rather devious.

"Why you little imp." Bruce shook his head slowly. "I can't believe you."

Richard shrugged. "Hey—it's just fair play."

Fair play, indeed, and now it was Bruce's turn again…

-A-

Yep, ladies, don't eat poppy-seeds before you take a pregnancy test. My older sister found that out from one of her close friends and my little sister is still laughing her face off at the chapter. If you have any questions, just send me an e-mail or say so in you review. I'll be more than happy to clear anything up with you.

_Until Again_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	11. Making Bets

Making Bets

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Ah yes, my work of the two partners bickering endlessly has seemed to have crept up behind me again. I can't help but continuously search for new ideas and most of them I find through experience…although, I've never had to take a pregnancy test and, unless my gender is suddenly switched over-night, I doubt I ever will. This next mishap happened to a close friend of mine. Here's a piece of advice—never strike a deal with the devil…especially when you're a kid.

Let's go—

In the beginning of the game it was simply a flaring anger and the aching huger for revenge that drove them both to get back at the other as soon as possible. Even though Richard's last trick against him was horribly embarrassing and quite devious, it was well planned out in such a short amount of time, the public didn't get word of it, and he did nothing against the law in order to fulfill his plans. In short, it was fair play…to a degree.

The thought of a nine-year-old boy not even chest height to Bruce out-smarting the man made him feel beyond furious. But he could be patient. In their silent agreement of the game, they were uneven in the scores and now it was Bruce's turn for pay-back.

But he had to think of something first.

The evening of the last incident went by slowly and Bruce left with a giggling Richard back to Wayne Manor after talking with the other guests about fund raisers and an up-coming costume party. He was too embarrassed to explain why his surrogate son and Barbara Gordon kept laughing their heads off every time they saw him that night, and he silently swore that he would make Richard feel a similar humiliation as soon as the next up-coming event presented itself on the calendar.

Which just so happened to be the costume party in three days.

Now, he had to do this as intelligently as Richard—and with as much honour. Although Richard had his good laugh behind his back with Barbara, he did not let anyone else know about his little prank on Bruce. It was set out to see Bruce's separate embarrassment. Bruce would have to do likewise. Something had to be done to Richard that the boy would wallow about on his own—something that made him suffer but not in the public's eye…like his fetish against blue. It would leave in years to come—you often grew to like what you once hated in your younger years (sometimes…)—but he despised the colour so much that he hated wearing a blue suit to their last party. No one else saw anything amiss.

He had to come up with something like that. In conclusion, it had to happen at the party and it would have to do with something Richard hated…

It wasn't until the day after Richard's prank that Bruce came up with the first half of his plan. Actually, it was caught by an absolute stroke of sheer luck. Costumes had to be picked and neither of them wanted to choose something. Alfred had been berating at them for at least a week to come up with something but Bruce wanted to go simply as himself while Richard didn't want to go at all.

"I'd rather go to bed early." Richard grumbled, taking a seat next to Bruce on the couch. The man flipped through the channels and sipped at a glass of water, stopping when he saw a movie. It was an old classic, a black and white version of Peter Pan.

"If I have to put up an act for the public, so do you." Bruce stated bluntly. "Just smile and act like a perfectly sweet little boy."

"I'm not little."

"Tell that to mirror."

Richard crossed his arms and grumbled something low in protest, but settled down to watch the movie. It was when the movie neared its end that Bruce offered help.

"Why don't you go as Peter?"

The boy blanched and he turned his head swiftly to face Bruce. "You've got to be joking me!" He squeaked. "Tell me you didn't fall on your head the last time we went out on patrol!"

Bruce paused in honest confusion and stared back at his ward with growing curiosity. "…Why not?"

"_Why not!" _Richard waved his hand toward the screen. "Because Peter's a _girl_, you ninny!"

He was taken by surprise, but found the answer quite amusing. "Hello—Peter is a boy!"

"Watch!" Richard pointed to the screens, the credits rolling up on a black background. Sure enough, when they listed the actors, it was a girl's name that showed up as Peter Pan instead of a boy's.

"…Why would they do a thing like that?"

Alfred, who was standing behind the couch, smiled. "Boy's grow up too fast, Master Bruce. Girls and young ladies maintain a higher pitched voice and the small figure of a young boy. It makes it easier for the directors to use an older actor who has more experience to play an opposite gender part than have a distracted younger boy, if it can be helped. Naturally, girls can get away with it fairly easy."

"I see…but still—Peter's a small, energetic, clever kid who wears spandex and fights villainous pirates—I think that fits with Richard quite well, don't you?"

Alfred chuckled merrily and Richard blushed several tones darker into a rosy red. That hit the spot. Only Richard would feel despair at taking up a role played by a girl. Bruce had seen other little boy's dress up as Peter for Halloween—only a kid who did research for a living would know the part originally belonged to a girl.

The perfect revenge.

Richard must have seen the smirk on his face because he shook his head desperately and started to complain. "Oh—no, no, no, no, _no_! I don't care what you say!"

"It doesn't matter if you care or not. This is my house and you're my responsibility—you can either go as Peter Pan or I'll ground you from patrol for the rest of the week."

The boy gapped in shock and his shoulder slouched sadly. "…Please don't make me do this Bruce. At least give me a chance."

Hm?

"A chance?"

"Yeah…you know—make a bet? If I lose I go as _her_"—He made sure to say the word with as much venom as he could muster—"and if I win I get to pick something else."

As strange as it may seem…fair enough.

"Fine…but I chose what we're betting on…"

-R-

He never knew a crueler man. If the price for losing wasn't bad enough, the bet was even worse, especially since it concerned Barbara through-out the whole deal. Bruce probably thought he wouldn't do it, too risky, but what Bruce didn't know was that Richard didn't mind taking risks. For heavens sake, he used to swing around and do flips hundreds of feet up into the air before he was adopted. What made him think he _wasn't_ going to do it?

But, with all honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that he had to be Peter Pan if he lost, he probably would have admitted defeat on the spot.

"This is so insane." Robin growled, sitting in the passenger seat with Batman as they started off from the first take-down of the night. "How can you be so mean?"

"I'm not mean." He replied, stern and serious, not giving a care. But Robin could tell he was grinning behind the mask, could tell that deep down inside he was laughing himself to death. Batman still didn't think he would do it.

And he probably thought that as they took down the next set of crooks, although he must have sensed some of Robin's frustration when the little boy almost bashed a man's face in with one of his running jump side-kicks off a table. Could have broken the man's neck too but Batman made no comment. He cold have said a lot of awful things, but he kept his all-knowing grin to himself until they pulled up into the alleyway behind Gordon's apartment. Barbara's room was the one on the second floor to the very left, curtains closed and lights off at this early hour of the morning, three o'clock. Robin had been staying up later and later during the summer nights, but Alfred would make sure he returned to his usual routine of bedtime once August rolled around. It was still the second week of July.

Parking the car, Batman got out and opened the back, pulling out a bag of Robin's regular day clothes. "Get dressed." He told his ward as he handed the bag to the boy and closed the doors to give him privacy. Once Robin was 'Richard' he got outside and straightened his green sweater, head titled back to look up at Barbara's window.

"If I get in trouble, I'm going to kill you."

"That's why you're getting back at Barbara for me for helping you. Besides, if you are caught by her she won't have you arrested. She already knows you're pulling pranks on people."

"On _you_."

"Are you buying time?"

Richard frowned and opened the trunk, taking out his things. "You don't think I'm going to do it, don't you?" He turned up his chin and shot his grappling hook toward her windowsill.

Batman crossed his arms and leaned against the batmobile. "True. Remember, if she wakes and knows it's you—"

"I know, I know—just watch." And he began his climb toward her window, utility belt the only part of his Robin costume on him. Reaching to his waist once he got to his destination, he pulled out his wires and picked the lock beneath the glass frame. Then, quietly, he pulled it upward and slipped inside…

Barbara was fast asleep on the other side of the room in her bed. Turned on one side, her back faced the window as Richard entered the room. He placed his things on the ground and stuck his head out the window; catching the two large bottles Bruce threw up to him before they hit him in the face. Then, after taking a deep breath…he set off to work…

And paused in horror when he was finished. Set up by wires, a bucket full of water balanced on her bed's headboards just above her face. The final wire led out the window to the ground where, once Richard climbed down to meet Bruce, he'd pull it and listen for her scream in the cold shower. The only problem was, every time she twisted in bed the bucket almost lost balance. She slept like an elephant for goodness sake…

"Hold still, you stupid girl." Richard muttered, and sat down on the bed by her head, looking under the bucket to search for a catch. Maybe there was something sturdier he could find to put the bucket on so it wouldn't tip over before he left.

Just as he was pushing the bucket a little to the side, two arms slid around his waist and pulled him into an awkward hug with Barbara who, still half asleep, said softly. "Hi, uncle, I didn't know you were out late."

He didn't actually hear what she said but in his usual reaction to someone grabbing him around the waist, he elbowed her in the face, waking her and successfully tipping the bucket down on both of them.

-B-

Barbara could really scream, and…Richard could too. That was a new discovery…

-R-

"You little pest!" She yelled, still holding onto him tightly around the waist as he tried to scramble away. "What was that for!"

"Please don't kill me, Barbara!" He pleaded, finally giving in and sitting on the side of the bed beside her, wringing out the lower half of his soaking wet sweater onto her floor. "Bruce put me up to it."

And then they both broke out laughing.

That woke Gordon, of course, and when he came in both Richard and Barbara were still laughing hysterically. He waited patiently in the doorway, chuckling himself as he waited for them to regain their breath before putting together the whole prank. Strange as it might have seemed, Richard didn't get into trouble with Mr. Gordon for pulling the prank.

"But, uncle! He broke into my room and spilt water all over me!" She complained, wringing out her own clothes as Richard continued on giggling.

Her uncle just shook his head and picked up the bucket which rolled off the bed onto the floor. "Serves you right for that prank you pulled on Mr. Wayne a couple of days ago, with his supposed girlfriend being pregnant."

Both Richard and Barbara paused.

Yeah…that was a good prank.

-B-

Richard kept his word and came as Peter like he said he would, although he tried to avoid Bruce as much as he could at the party, playing with the few other children, and hid behind his surrogate father when he was forced to meet someone important or someone who thought they were important.

Bruce was enjoying his revenge.

"Don't you look _so_ cute!" One lady commented, messing up Richard's hair when he mistakenly moved too slow out of her reach. "I was going to make my Rob dress up as Peter, but he kept complaining something about girl actors…"

"Listen to him." Richard grumbled and Bruce laughed while the woman was left in utter confusion. "Or he'll hate you forever."

-R-

The only thoughts that went through his head the entire time he had to stand with Bruce (who wore a suit, the old ninny…) were too simple words:

'_**My** turn…'_

-A-

Well, this one was longer than my regular. I hope you guessed thought it was funny even though I kept switching POVs. Any way, I'll see you guys again later!

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	12. The First Failure

The First Failure

Alexnandru Van Gordon

I thought up of this one right after I wrote the last chapter, and it's similar to something I _accidentally_—and I seriously mean _accidentally_—did to my mother last night. I still haven't admitted to her and I've been mustering up the courage to tell her she's not going insane, but I haven't seen her since last night and I won't for a while since she works as a nurse at night and sleeps during the day.

Let's go—

Insanity goes **one** way—and that's straight to your head. That's just a conclusion he came to after Bruce misplaced his keys enough times and had to have Alfred help him find them. But after a night of battling Scarecrow and a bunch of his goons (who, by the way, Richard hated with all his might), he figure out that Bruce must have been permanently affected by his crazy dust after receiving enough different doses.

Bruised and banged up, Alfred helped Richard by wrapping up the rest of his chest, mindful of the broken rib, as Bruce paced the cave in the background. He had to get to the airport to great some sort of business man and he was looking for—you guessed it—his misplaced keys.

"Perhaps you should attach them to a chain." Alfred suggested.

"—around your neck." Richard added with a giggle. This earned him a stern look from Bruce, but he picked up his own keys piled up with his regular clothes. "See—that's what I do."

Bruce shook his head. "I'm not some kid who would lose his keys otherwise if not worn around my neck."

"Yep. You're an adult with Alzheimer who'd lose his keys any other way."

Bruce moved to slap him upside the head, but with a warning glare from Alfred he held his temper at bay. Instead he muttered it off with a goodnight before he left to find his keys.

"You don't suppose it's from old age, do you?" Richard asked; changing into his pajamas after Alfred was finished helping him. "Or is something else on his mind."

"Master Bruce is still young, although he _believes_ he is growing old." Alfred sighed. "And please have your bath before you go to bed, Master Dick—and don't mention any other comments to Master Bruce before the morning. Your constant bickering has given me a headache."

"Sure thing, Al." Richard promised, even though the thought gave him a terrible idea…

-B-

"Barbara can watch me." Richard suggested and both Bruce and Alfred silently protested against the idea. Alfred was leaving for England in the afternoon, heading toward his cousins wedding in London while Bruce had an important meeting to get too right after noon. They couldn't leave him home alone as injured as he was and there was little time to find a new babysitter that could handle the energetic nine-year-old acrobat.

"What will we tell her?" Bruce asked, eyeing his bandaged up ward.

"I fell over the high railing after a failed back flip." He answered gleefully and Bruce shuddered at the mental image. That was a long way to fall, but anyone who knew Richard would probably believe that fib to be true. It wasn't a pleasant lie but at least it would work…

"…Fine…" Bruce grabbed for his coat from the closet and then handed Alfred his own. The older man collected his one suitcase as Bruce took out his cell phone to call Barbara. "Don't do anything stupid while we're gone. I'm dropping Alfred off at the airport first so if you or Barbara need to call me at the office, you'll have to wait for an hour or so until I get there. Are we clear?"

"As crystal." He gave a fake salute and smiled. "Don't worry. I won't kill myself."

"Let's hope not." Bruce muttered and left the house with his butler. He could just image stepping through the door on his way home and greeting another old can of paint. It was one of the older tricks but…Richard _should_ have run out of ideas by now. Who knew what he'd be reduced to, to get another cheap shot back at Bruce for the bet the kid lost?

-R-

"Really?"

Richard nodded. "Alfred said Bruce thinks he's getting old when he's supposedly really young, but if you ask me—anyone crazy enough to drink coffee with no sugar has to be old. All your taste buds need to die out before someone could stand the taste of that stuff."

Barbara made a face. "Hey, shorty—for your information, _I _drink coffee every Sunday morning."

"Yeah, but you drink yours with milk. He drinks straight black—no sugar or anything!"

"I see…and what does this have to do with anything?"

"Everything." Richard jumped out of bed, shorts and t-shirt on, and grabbed his journal off his desk. Barbara, sitting on the edge of his bed, took it into her hands and began to read the pages.

"Hey…this is a list of all Bruce's habits and the way he usually does stuff. What possessed you to write this? Unless you turned into some sort of stalker, I can't find any reason why you'd waste ten pages of perfect paper on this weirdo. And…Hey, I didn't know he drank with his left hand."

Richard grinned and nodded. "Yep. He says he's right handed but I think when you consider all the stuff he does, he's really ambidextrous. I only ever see him write with his right hand though…"

"And he's a neat freak, has everything in order from left to right, up to down…wow, maybe he has a bit of OCD-ness in him too." She handed him back the book and sighed, finally grinning herself. "So, stalker, what's your plan this time?"

"It's pretty simple. We're going to make him as old as he feels."

She arched an eyebrow and he knew she was deeply interested. "Why? So he retires from this little war between the two of you, or just to uneven the scores for now?"

"Actually…I'm hoping for the latter of the two—if not both."

"Then order away, oh great one. I'm eager to begin…"

-B-

Work was—simply put—hell. He had no idea someone could keep a meeting going for seven hours and then remind him of some banquet starting at nine that he forgot all about. Usually he'd drag Richard along if he didn't feel like staying long, making the excuse that the boy had bed to get to so they could leave early, but he'd have mercy on Richard for now with his injuries and all. The boy would also miss patrol that night too, but he'd probably bound back into action in a day or two. There wasn't much that kept 'Robin' down, and Bruce could back anyone up you said that.

Speeding home, he was surprised to see no cops on his tail. Everything seemed to be going rather alright until he remembered who was waiting for him home. Not to mention Barbara was there. That could only mean they were conspiring against him…again…

"Hey, Mr. Wayne." Barbara said as she answered the door, stepping aside as he entered and took off his coat. "Nice day, eh?"

"How was Richard?" He asked instantly, the usual question he berated the girl with.

"Rowdy, but if you add some pain killers and a glass of warm milk to those injuries of his, he goes out like a light. So be quiet on your way up, he's asleep."

"Sure thing." He told her over his shoulder, running up the grand stairs and silently as he could manage. Running to his room he changed—but not before checking the entire place for traps. He wasn't going to put aside the fact that Richard had been working the entire time he was away. With Miss Gordon around, nothing was impossible for him.

Certain that he was safe—for now—he slicked back his hair and brushed the hair behind his ears with a comb before setting off downstairs again, fixing an uncomfortable tie around his neck. He found Barbara in the living room reading a magazine on the couch.

"Barbara, do you think I can pay you to stay until midnight or so? I'm sorry if it's on short notice but I don't have time to call up someone else."

"No problem, Mr. Wayne." She replied, looking up from her magazine—and then giggled when she saw him. "Oh…and nice hair."

What?

He didn't ask—he just stepped out into the hall to find the annoying large mirror Alfred put up somewhere. At first he didn't see anything, but upon closer inspection he noticed that—quite faintly—the hair above and behind both ears was a darker shade of gray. Now that he saw it he couldn't stop seeing it, no matter how far away he stood from the mirror. It was…frightening.

"Hey, Barbara." He retuned to the living-room quickly, checking his watch for the time. "Is it really that noticeable?"

She looked up from her magazine and squinted at his hair. "Um…not that much. Just stick out of the direct light and no one will see it."

"Uh…thanks…"

-R-

"And?"

She smiled proudly. "He's falling for it. You should have s_een_ the look on his face when he asked me if it was bad—absolute devastation! Oh, Dick—this is going to be great!"

"Good. Stage one completed." He checked off the first marker at the back of his journal.

"What's next?"

"We have to wait for tomorrow before things start to brew up. Meet me in the yard at seven o'clock in the morning and I'll fill you in on the rest." He paused. "And…you're sure that stuff won't just wash out with normal soap and water?"

She rolled her eyes, smiling wickedly. "Kid, that's the new type of oil paint I got from the shop a week ago. That stuff ain't coming out unless he ducks his head into a bucket of turpentine—unless he waits about a week and a half. That stuff does wear of eventually, and I don't think he'll notice it yet on that comb of his."

Well…as long as it didn't wash out in one night. He needed to keep up the charade for another day or so if he wanted it to get to the fun stuff…

-B-

Only three other people noticed the graying hair and they all said it in a way that it made him almost 'shy' to talk to anyone else at the charity banquet. All the remarks like "getting old, I see", "working a little too hard I see", or "you should get married soon" all made him feel as old as he usually thought he was. Now he felt like an elastic band stretched beyond the limits. Maybe he _was_ working too hard and stressing himself out. But getting married? First he'd have to get to know a woman well enough to let her in on her secret, and then he'd have to get Richard to like her too because his identity was being given up as well.

Round and round the Ferris wheel spins.

He arrived home earlier than what he usually did and Barbara didn't mind. She even felt sorry about the whole 'mid-life crisis' (as she put it) issue going on with him so she didn't accept pay and simply ran from the house when he tried to give her the money anyway. Richard was even kind enough not to mention anything when Bruce went to say goodnight, but that could also be due to the fact that he kept the lights off in the boy's room when he entered. There was no doubt Richard would comment on it sooner or later.

At least sleep came easy after he patrolled and that was a heaven-sent gift. Maybe he just needed a little more rest. Perhaps he was straining himself too hard…

Being Saturday, he allowed himself to sleep in until eight thirty, a big difference for him, and came down stairs to meet Richard in the dining room with a cup of coffee. The boy sat on the far end away from him, eating cereal and staring at the newspaper before Bruce swapped it away from him.

"I was reading that…" The nine-year-old growled at Bruce made his way long way down to the other end of the table.

"Shouldn't a normal boy your age be into comics or coloring books or painting? I haven't seen you paint in a long while…"

Richard rolled his eyes. "Hello—I was born in a circus, live with a nice old butler and a mean excuse of a man, and fight criminals in my spare time. When on earth was I ever given the right to be normal?"

"Good point." He unfolded the huge paper and lifted it into his view. "Now finish your breakfast."

Richard muttered something for where he sat but ate as he was told, quit as a mouse, and Bruce enjoyed the paper. He had almost forgotten about the whole 'gray hair' ordeal until he reached around the paper and took a sip from his coffee.

Spitting it out all over the newspaper, he nearly dropped his cup and choked. It was _loaded_ with sugar swirling in a huge mass right in the middle of his coffee, something he didn't recall putting in there. He hated sugar in his coffee—even one teaspoon made him sick.

Richard, pausing in his own meal, gave Bruce an odd look and stared at the dropped newspaper. "Bad news?"

"No…" He stared at his cup and picked up a spoon, stirring the liquid to make sure he wasn't imagining things. "There's sugar in my coffee."

The boy shrugged. "So?"

"But I hate sugar in my coffee!"

"Then why did you put it in there?"

Bruce frowned. "_I_ didn't—_you_ did."

Richard gave him the weirdest look yet, eyes dragging along the table from where he sat to Bruce. "And how exactly would I have done that? I know I'm an acrobat, but I'm not the Flash or Superman!"

He was right.

Did he put it in there and forget?

"First your keys and then your coffee—jeez Louise, growing old, aren't you?"

Bruce frowned at the comment but didn't make a come-back. Maybe he was…

-R-

To say the least, Bruce was overwhelmed by the discovery that he might be growing old. As upset as he was, he left the table soon after cleaning up his mess and threw out the coffee before storming off to his office.

Then Barbara came up from under the table, pushing aside the long white table cloth before she accidentally pulled it off. "I tried so hard not to laugh." She giggled. "What did he look like when he sipped the coffee?"

Richard watched as she put the sugar bucket on the table and sat down in Bruce's seat. Then he shrugged. "Didn't see exactly because of the newspaper in the way, but when he put it down he looked like he stepped on a nail. He had a really shocked look on his face."

She clapped her hands together joyfully and smiled wider than he had ever seen before. "Oh—what's next, Dick?"

"Next step is his office…"

-B-

Reading and working always made him feel better. He had a few contracts to look over and the most recent review of his company to look over before the next meeting on Tuesday. Fox would kill him if he didn't get it down (and, mind you, he was near finished), and so he had every perfect excuse to relax the day away in his office.

Until Richard knocked on the door.

He was highly suspicious of when the boy would pull his next prank but Richard had a busy look about him as well, staring at a sheet of paper he must have printed off the computer. "I need your help with something." The boy said honestly as he closed the door quietly behind him. Bruce raised an eyebrow, but leaned back in his chair and nodded.

"You know that guy that got killed by the other guy down by the docks last night?"

Bruce almost laughed. "Shouldn't you know the names? I thought you were a detective."

"I am." Richard frowned. "I can't pronounce either of the last names and I know you're busy, so let's make this quick."

Bruce shrugged. "Fine. What do you need from me?"

"I need one of your books." Richard indicated to the tall book shelf just behind Bruce's desk. "I think it's the big red book on the top shelf."

Bruce winced. The shelf was much taller than Bruce and he would need a ladder, but at least Richard was asking for his help instead of just climbing the shelf himself and then having it fall on him.

"I don't know if I can reach it…" Bruce started, standing from his desk. "You'll have to sit on my shoulders."

"No prob." The boy strode across the room and Bruce held out his hands. In one clean swing Robin was up on his shoulders, facing forward like Bruce as the man held onto his shins.

"Okay…which one is it?"

"It should be the red one but it's been a while since I looked through it, seeing that _you_ won't let me anywhere near your books."

"You spilt milk on the last one."

"You spilt coffee on my book too."

"That was Robin Hood. I can replace that, but my psychology books are a little more valuable."

"Still, I can't make out any of the words from pages fifty-six to ninety-three because of how much you spilt, and the one picture of Maid Marianne looks like a monster Superman would fight in space."

"Ha-ha, I'm sorry, okay?"

"So am I, but I said that a long time ago."

"_Argh_…Just grab the book."

Richard stretched his arms and caught the book, pulling it out and staring at the cover. "Huh? Animals of the World—this is my book! Why do _you_ have it?"

Bruce scowled. "Relax, it's not like I stole it from you. Alfred must have found it lying around and put it there for filler on the shelf."

"Uh-huh. _Right_…" He tossed it over his shoulder and Bruce heard it land with a slam on the desk behind him.

"Hey—watch it!"

"Sorry—move a little to the right. It must be the other red book." Richard stretched his arms again after Bruce moved and pulled out another book. With a laugh, he opened the book and leaned the book toward him to show Bruce the pictures. There was a long paragraph about knife wounds ad a man chopped to bits in a picture above it. The page next to it showed the mess in a larger view from a different angle. "We were looking for this last week, remember? And all that time I thought Alfred was busy cutting out the pictures…"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Close that book. You shouldn't see that."

"Whatever—" And tossed the book back over his shoulder to slam on the desk with the other. "Move a little further to the right again."

"I told you to mind the books."

"No, you told me to watch them."

Bruce muttered something under his breath but moved fro Richard. The boy took the last red book off the top shelf and opened it to look at the pages. "Yep, thanks Bruce. This is the right one. See—" He lowered the book to show Bruce the pages. There was a picture of guns lying on a table, arrows pointing to their differences. Richard pointed to one. "This is the one I think he was shot with. It's only one of the few that uses the bullet type we found in the guy's head."

"Oh really?"

"Yep. You can put me down now."

"Not until you put away the other books."

"Huh?" Richard hung his head forward and stared at Bruce questioningly. "This is the one we took off the shelf."

Bruce turned around to look at the desk. "Don't lie, your threw the books over you shoulder onto my desk and—"

They were gone.

"Where'd you put them?"

"Put what?"

"The animal book and the other one?"

Richard shrugged. "Beats me. I have no idea what you're talking about. We only took this one—"

"Richard…" Bruce growled, staring up at his boy. "I know what I saw and I'm not putting you down until you tell me the truth."

Richard looked genuinely shocked, scratching his bandaged-up left arm mindlessly. "Well…honestly, I don't know what to say. I have no idea what you're—"

"Look, Richard. You're on dangerous grounds right now, because you're sitting on my shoulders and I can easily just carry you back down to the cave to give you another time out like last time. Tell me what's up and I'll let you down but—" He stared at the desk again. "Where are all my papers?"

Richard smacked Bruce on top of his head. "What are you, _old_? You were looking at them this morning before you stole the newspaper from me. You left them on the dining-room table."

"No I didn't!" Bruce growled again. "I was reading them just before you entered the room!"

"You were sleeping when I came in!"

"NO I WASN'T!" Or did he?...Was he really losing his mind?

"Look—go into the dining room and see for yourself! They'll be right there on the table!"

"And how do I know you didn't move them there?"

Richard smacked him again on the head, harder this time to emphasize his point. "Hello! You watched me the entire time I entered the office_ and_ I'm stuck on your shoulders! I'd have to split in two in order to do that!"

"Or one…" Bruce drifted off into thought. Swinging Richard off his shoulders, he grabbed the boy's hand and started out of his office toward the dining-room at a fast pace. He stopped at his end of the table and pulled up the white table cloth, leaning down one knee to stare under the table. Sure enough, there was spilt sugar.

"Who's been helping you this time?" He asked in a dangerous tone, still holding the boy's hand. "Well?"

Richard said nothing, looking as innocent and upset as possible.

"Fine." Then Bruce dragged him off toward the kitchen. "We'll just have to figure this out the hard way."

Richard still said nothing. He was quiet until Bruce stopped by the kitchen phone by the sink and picked up the boy, sitting him down on the counter in front of him.

"Alfred would have a fit if he found out I was on his counter."

"Do I look like I care?" Bruce picked up the receiver. "Who was it? One of your friends? Matthew, Samuel, Jason, Cory—_Barbara_?" He smiled cruelly at her name. "Yeah, I think she'd have a hay-day making me think I was old, if just for a few laughs and your satisfaction in this little war going on. We'll call up Barbara and ask her down to play. Does that sound good to you?"

Richard crossed his arms but began to look worried as Bruce dialed her number. The line rang twice before her uncle answered.

"_Hello?"_

Bruce smiled. "Hell, Gordon. This is Bruce and I was just wondering if Barbara could come down to baby-sit Richard again today."

"_Poor boy. I heard from Barbara that he fell down some stairs or something the other day. I'd call her up but she isn't here right now. She said she had some errands to run today and left around six thirty in the morning. I haven't seen her since."_

Bruce smiled wider and Richard began to look even more uneasy. "Thanks anyway, Gordon. I'll see you around.'

"_Have a nice day, Mr. Wayne."_

"You too."

He hung up and stared at Richard again. "Barbara is out for the day. But we know where she is, don't we, Richard?"

The boy shrugged. "Sorry, I have no idea."

"Yes you do—she's the one helping you. She slipped sugar into my coffee when I was reading the paper, waiting under the table for me to come downstairs. She's the one who took the books and paper off my desk when I was helping you with the books—I bet she's still in there under the desk, or hiding somewhere else in the house to help you with this prank."

Richard, despite the furious look on his face, very calmly brushed a strand of stray hair behind Bruce's ear and smiled gently. "You _can't_ prove that." He said, slow and smug and cocky, emphasizing the word 'can't'. "And besides…how could _anyone_ give you _gray hair_?"

Bruce's smile faded to be replaced with an angry frown. "You might get away with it now, but I will prove that I'm right, Richard. Just know—I finally won against one of your pranks. This one was a failure so take this kind gesture of mercy and run along. You're losing your touch, _little_ man."

Richard scowled at the word 'little', but jumped off the counter without a word when Bruce stepped aside and left the kitchen quickly. Things were going to get a lot tougher now that they were catching on to each other, and although Richard's plan had been working out nicely for a while Bruce had been victorious. He finally won against him fair and square…

But the battle was far from finished.

-A-

Now who's turn would it be now?...I'll have to think that through, but what do you think of the longest chapter yet? I know it was slow, but I had to make it seem difficult for Richard because this first failure has some importance in the future…Sorry if it was boring.

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	13. A Tragedy for Every Comedy

A Tragedy for Every Comedy

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Before I start this out, I just want to clear up a mistake in the last chapter. When Barbara was sitting under the table with the sugar, Richard says to Bruce: "Hello—I was born in a circus, live with a nice old butler and a mean excuse of a man, and fight criminals in my spare time. When on earth was I ever given the right to be normal?" I'm just going to pretend that Barbara was too busy laughing to herself that she didn't hear it or she thought he was joking. My bad. Sorry…

**IMPORTANT: **And yes—re-read the title if you don't have the slightest idea of what's going to happen next. I mean what it says—**_a tragedy for every comedy_.** _Reality hurts and I have to take this back down to earth for a short while before the humor kicks in again…_**AKA:** This story will actually have a shorter plot within the original plot before I take this back to being a comedy. I'll probably try to add some humor in here and there—but enough rambling. On with the story!

Let's go—

"He did it—he tipped the scales! AND he almost caught me for good…" He was on the verge of tearing the hair from his head while Barbara watched him march back and forth across his room. "He knows you're here too—I just don't know why he doesn't come upstairs and boast about his _big_ discovery again."

She shrugged, swinging her feet off the edge of his bed. "Maybe he's being merciful."

She obviously had no idea who she was talking about. If only she really knew…

"He called your dad."

"WHAT!" Sitting up straight, her eyes grew wide. "Did he tell him that I'm here—what I'm doing?"

"Bruce can be malevolent but he's a detective at heart. He won't make an accusation unless he has the proof…"

"Big words for a little man…" She muttered. "Who gave you the dictionary for Christmas?"

"Alfred."

"Oh…" She shifted and began to chew on her lower lip. "So what now? A surprise attack or do we chill the vengeance until it's ready to serve? You've done pretty much all the drastic stuff I can think of, but who knows—maybe there are a few stunts in a book or something."

"We wait for Alfred." The man hadn't been too keen on the war between Bruce and Richard in the beginning but Alfred always had a soft spot for kids. He'd side with Richard if the kid was kind enough and used the right words. Besides, so far Richard was the only one Alfred had sided with at all. Bruce didn't stand a chance when up against the man who was his father-figure, friend and butler.

"He thinks he's such the detective…" Barbara started muttering to herself. "The kid has help and who gets blamed first? Me…"

That gave him an idea.

Bruce did pride himself in the brilliance of his mind and ability to out-do anyone who dared challenge him. Heck—if he didn't, one of Gotham's villains would have done him in long ago.

"Thanks for dropping by, Barbara."

The girl gave him a suspicious look and stood. "What are you thinking…Do you want my help for the next prank?"

"No. I think I'll need to do it on my own if I want to reclaim my pride. Thanks anyway—if this one works out then you can help me out on the next one."

She didn't seem convinced at first, but after eyeing Richard long enough she shrugged and opened one of his bedroom windows. Climbing out onto the edge she jumped for the tree and started her way down toward the lawn. "Call me later and tell me how it works out!" She called back up to him. "And don't get yourself grounded. Your pranks have made the beginning of this summer vacation so much more exciting."

He could try…but with any more slip ups like before maybe a good grounding was waiting ahead for him after all…

-Al-

Alfred returned three days later and was nearly shocked to death from the silence in the house. He was greeted by a well-behaved boy and a (actually) smiling business man who, when he left, confined himself to the office and didn't know anyone was in the house until they unexpectedly walked in on him. It was an improvement…but there was that feeling in the air, that sense of asphyxiation when an argument had gone on not too long ago and was being masked through a well-crafted charade. He was getting the feeling that Richard and Bruce had been ignoring each other for the longest time until they came to the door and greeted the butler home.

"What happened?"

The answer came sooner then they expected, he could see they were caught off guard by the looks on their faces, but each had prepared in one way or another for a situation like this. Richard shook his head, smiled softly and said it was nothing while Bruce gave him the regular arch of the eyebrow. Neither one would admit he was right—they were too stuck up with pride in their little war game to admit defeat. But he knew how to get it out of them. He just had to give it a little time.

"Never mind then…"

Richard took his coat. "How was the wedding?..."

He didn't find out what had happened until a day later when he prepared lunch and set it ready on a tray to take down to the cave. The two of them were fighting again—sparring, that is—and it was just about the only thing they did together during the day besides the patrol last night . Even the cat and dog were quiet now that they're owners were growing serious in their game. They sat still at the top of the stairs as he stepped over them.

"I know how you feel." He whispered to the two of them and made his way down into the darkness…

"Stop taking an extra step—they'll know you're going to make a move if you do that." There was a grunt made in effort from Richard and then Bruce spoke again. "Higher. My head isn't that low."

"I wonder if your brain is…"

"_Ow_—I said higher!"

"You moved!"

"What—you expect a criminal to hold still?"

"Not a lot of them would still be standing anyway!"

"You can't afford to have them getting back up—now try again."

There was another grunt and more sounds of movement, breathing erratic as they fell into something of a dance. By time Alfred reached the bottom of the stairs, Bruce grabbed Richard by the front of his white shirt, pulled his arm back, and threw the kid to the far side of the other mat. The boy struggled in air to gain balance and fortunately did before he landed gracefully on both feet and a hand for good measure—for charging forward and leaping up to connect his right foot with the man's head. Bruce, on the other hand, raised his arm to block and throw Richard off balance again, this time the young master falling to his back at Bruce's feet before—

"Dinner, sir."

Both gave a start at the sound of his voice, staring at the butler as he placed the tray down on the table beside the main computer control panel. Richard got up on his own and made his way over toward the food with a scowl on his face, Bruce glaring at the boy's back as he grabbed a towel off the back of a chair and wiped down his face and neck.

"Soup—what kind?" Richard asked hungrily, hiding his anger once again.

"Tomato, sir." He answered, staring at Bruce's back before whispering. "Perhaps you should eat upstairs in the kitchen. I think there's something we should talk about…"

"Gotcha." The boy replied. He was too tired too put up much of an argument, despite how snappish he became after sparring. Alfred knew that was the best time to approach the boy.

He left one bowl downstairs for Bruce and carried the second one up for Richard, winking to the cat and dog as he passed. Half way through the meal, Alfred began his interrogation.

"What exactly happened this time?"

"Hm?" The boy looked up from his soup. "You mean while you were gone?"

"Between you and Master Bruce, to be more precise."

The boy frowned somewhat to himself, taking another spoonful of soup before pushing the bowl aside. Leaning his elbows on the table—something Alfred would only allow for the time being-he gave in quite easily.

"I remembered you saying how Bruce kept worrying that he was older than he actually was. I got Barbara to help me play a few tricks on him to make him think he was losing his mind…"

"That would explain the white hair…" He could recall seeing a faint gray shade above each ear on Bruce's black hair…

"Nah—that's just some paint Barbara gave me. It'll wash out eventually…" Then he continued. "But the thing that really hurts is that he caught me. He knew it was all me, even though he can't prove it entirely, but then he had to go and act like the detective/hero again. I get enough of his ego when we go out each night—it drives me nuts!"

"That's understandable, but you're giving as good as you're getting in this foolish little war. How would you have it end?"

"In tragedy."

The answer surprised him—especially coming from someone as fun loving and happy as Richard. Maybe Bruce would have said something like that, but it didn't suit the boy one bit.

"A tragedy?" He inquired. "Don't those usually end with death?"

"Fits it, though, doesn't it?" The boy stared at the far wall, brows knotted together in distress and deep thought. "A game bringing upon the end of a family…or what had the potential of becoming one…"

So Richard still thought of leaving. The boy never quite felt like he belonged when his mentor took him in—and he had everyone fooled for the longest of times. Now that Alfred thought about it, the only time Richard ever spent with Bruce was either practicing, on duty, or pulling pranks on him. The only way he could spend time with the man was through fighting physically or passively with the man, which, when you thought about it, took a lot of energy. The fun had grown old and turned into war only because he was getting exhausted.

Charades couldn't be kept up forever.

'_This place must be very lonely…'_

Those were some of Richard's first words about the Manor when he arrived. It was lonely to him and maybe it always would be…

"Have you tried talking to him?"

Richard rolled his eyes. "And say what—I give up? That's the only thing he'd want to hear and then he'd never let me forget how he's so much better than me. If I try to say anything else he'd probably think I was up to something else…"

"You brought it upon yourself."

"He's the adult!"

"You started it."

Richard crossed his arms, seeing the defeat ahead. "I'm not apologizing. If he doesn't want me around then I can take a message. I'm sure Haley will take me back if I go to him…"

Alfred gave a small laugh. "You're to young. That's one of the reasons you were brought here in the first place."

"Yeah—because I'm a short and skinny little orphan that everyone pities; just a charity chase. It doesn't matter anyway. As long as I keep practicing I can return to the circus as soon as I'm old enough. He can't hold me hostage here forever…"

Boy was this kid reading the wrong page…

"You're not a charity case and he doesn't want you to leave. He's just…irritated."

"Alfred, everything irritates him. Look at him the wrong way and he'll have you pinned up against the wall so fast you won't know what season it is."

"Not true."

He rolled his eyes again. "Easy for you to say—you've never fought against him."

"He just needs to realize what a mistake he's making."

"But—"

"Richard!"

The two froze when they heard his voice. Richard stood with a sigh and glanced at the clock. "Is it that time already? I swear patrol is getting longer each day…"

"That's only because you're not enjoying it as much as you used to." The older man answered. "Come and talk to me when you return. There's something else we need to go through."

"I—"

"Richard! This can't wait!"

"Okay—but no more lectures. I get enough of them from the monster under my bed."

Alfred allowed himself chuckled, but stared wearily after the boy as he ran from the room. Holding together was something this family wasn't too good at and that would have to change before Richard grew older and found the real rebel within that every teenager came across. If it stayed like this for much longer the two opponents would be spitting fire…

And something else worried Alfred greatly…didn't tragedies usually end with the death and/or demise of the hero?

How ironic it would be if Richard was having a vision of foreshadowment…

-R-

He hurt. Everywhere. Neck, hands, feet, knuckles, arms, legs, shoulders, back, head, chest, stomach—anything that could get hit was hit that night and the numb feeling that came with a good adrenaline rush started to wear off as he finished drying himself after the bath. And then there was the headache…all he did on the way home was argue with Bruce about who it was that alarmed the thugs they were there—and it wasn't just eight or nine of them. It was a warehouse full of maybe a minimum of sixty brutes gathered for some sort of big drug deal.

And to hell with crow-bats. The next time he saw one he was going to melt it in the fireplace…

He probably should have stayed home for a little longer than a couple of days for his ribs to heal. He was sure they were worse now—with a few new additions. Alfred would freak if he saw him without his shirt on. There were bruises all along his chest and back, and quite a few on his arms where one guy tried to grab him and shove him out the window. He fought like no tomorrow to get out of that man's vice-like grip—and thank God in any case for grappling hooks. He was going to break the neck of the next thug who tried to throw him three stories down out a window.

Changing into a loose white t-shirt and black shorts, he ruffled his hair with a dry towel and left the washroom in search of Alfred. He would need him to help with bandaging up the arm and leg wounds. He'd have to (painfully) ask Bruce to help him fix up the chest wounds, but, judging by the feud going on between the two of them, the insufferable fool would much rather tell on him to Alfred.

Why would he even bother asking?

"Master Richard—what in heaven's name happened to you!" He froze mid-stride down the hallway toward his room, turning to see Alfred stomp his way. Excuses flew through his head at a sickening rate but it didn't matter. The man already knew what as going on.

"I fell…" Scratching the back of his head, he forced a grin. "…down some stairs."

"Off a building is more like it! And onto what—an open engine?"

…Not exactly the last part, but he was pretty darn close about the first assumption. Good old Alfred…always one step ahead of the game…

"This will _not_ do." The old man growled, knelling on a single knee before Richard and grabbing his hands gently to exam each arm. "Look at this—_was that a chain_? I see link marks here and here and—did _he_ leave you alone on this one, or did he throw into a pack of criminals? What about your ribs—"

Richard back-stepped when he reached to lift his shirt, pulling it down lower, if possible, in shame. "It isn't his fault…we were outnumbered."

"There's no need to explain yourself, Master Dick. Bruce is the adult and he should have sent you home the moment things took a turn for the worse." He sighed, licking his lips as he stood and took one of Richard's small hands into his own. "Now, let's see what can be done about your wounds. I don't suppose Bruce has some of his own to show me?"

"He'd never admit to it." Richard murmured. "He'd rather patch himself up."

"But he won't stop me when I do it for him."

"I guess…"

Alfred smiled warmly, starting down the hall toward the boy's room. "I'll whip up a little remedy for you tonight to assure a sound slumber. You just might sleep the day away."

It didn't really matter to him. One way or another, he'd be bedridden for the rest of the week if Alfred or Bruce had anything to say about it. What a way to start summer…

Where was Ebony when he needed her?

-B-

It wasn't the easiest task to pull slivers of wood from his side with nothing but his bare hands and a small set of tweezers. He was lucky anything bigger didn't impale him wholly when he landed on the crate. He had been too distracted by Richard cursing at the man about to throw him out the window to notice the bloke that slammed a broken pipe into his jaw. Technically speaking, it should have been broken (sure felt like it was…), but perhaps he was adjusting to the blows. But, also 'technically' speaking, he should have died when he fell off the catwalk.

Thank God for Fox and his inventions.

As he finished wrapping up his chest, the notion of checking up on the kid came across his mind. Usually Alfred would deal with Richard the instant they returned home but, knowing Richard, the boy wouldn't want to let the old man—or anyone, for that matter—see him in the shape he was. Dick was probably already hoping the whole ordeal would be forgotten by time the sun rose in a couple of hours so he wouldn't be locked in his room for the next couple of days.

"Oh my—you too."

He nearly jumped out of his skin when they old man popped up next to him, somehow making his way down the stairs quiet enough that both Bruce and the bats didn't noticed. That was quite the accomplishment considering that you were sneaking up on a man of stealth in an echoing cave.

"Nothing big, Alfred. How about Richard?"

The old man shot him a disappointed frown, shaking his head before answering. "Worse than this." He gestured to Bruce's wounds. "I called Dr. Leslie to check on him in the morning."

"What about now?" Guilt was eating away at him now, but he tried hard not to show how well Alfred's glare was working. "Is he all right? Does he want to talk to me?"

The man held up a hand for silence, sighing heavily as he turned toward the table of gadgets Bruce broke that night. "I gave him one of my remedies. He was fast asleep when I left him."

Well…Richard was a kid, but he took pain like a man. Bruce would let him sleep the night (seeing that there was no use trying to wake someone on Alfred's drink), but in the morning he'd have to settle the war between them or, at the very least, put it on hold. They were too busy being angry at each other to work as a team that, as shown tonight, it would soon prove to be their undoing. They couldn't afford to keep fighting one another and every other person that hated them.

The odds were too great.

"Alright then…I'm heading up for bed. I have a meeting tomorrow morning."

Alfred gave a nod and started to clean up as Bruce headed back upstairs. He had to leave in five or six hours and what little sleep he collected before then would be all he could get until after the next patrol.

It was like they say—'Don't waste your life on lead' **(1)**…

-_Unknown_-

Off all the challenges in his entire life, this had one ended up being the hardest. Museums, tombs, banks, excavations—you name it. He could break in and out of your house before you knew you owned anything of real value. That couldn't be said for the majority of the rich population, but even then they didn't notice something was stolen or replaced by something fake until years later when they decided to move to another country. He had only been close to being caught once and that was thanks to—believe it or not—some little boy with red hair and a knack for sneaking around in air ducts.

What a freak accident that turned out to be…

So, learning from his lesson, he tended to stray away from jobs that concerned children—especially kidnapping unless it was utterly necessary on behalf of himself and Joel, the only man he ever trusted enough to be his parent. He didn't quite remember how the two of them became friends in the first place, or, at least, partners, but he vaguely recalled a job in Italy and a night of too much wine…

Slipping past the last camera, he pressed his back up against the side of the building and pulled out the rope he had wound around his waist. Looping it around his arm, grappling hook in hand, he swung it a couple of times before lifting his arm up high and aiming for the eaves of the roof. With a soft 'clank' it caught on something sturdy.

'_You ready yet?'_

Tapping the com stuck in his right ear to make sure it would stay; he began his ascension up the wall. "Yeah, yeah—I'm on my way up the east side. Third floor, right?"

'_Should be a large room. Mr. Wayne's is on the other side of the building and his guests tend to stay near the south side. You **shouldn't** run into anyone.' _ The word was said as more of a command than an opinion, but it didn't matter to Jason. He'd grown used to the getting orders…but never really acknowledging them…

Quietly he made his way up, planting his feet firmly on a small ledge beneath the window before pulling out a small knife and plaster from his belt. Most of the rich people had their security systems set up so that when the pressure on a windowsill eased, an alarm would go off. Smear something heavy on the sill and there wouldn't be any problems.

When he was finished with the plaster, he stabbed his knife deep between the window and its sill, lifting it without any noise or flashing lights.

'_You in yet?'_

"Yes, now shut up." Slipping inside, he gently lowered the window behind him and turned to look around the room. "One more thing—what exactly am I looking for again?"

'_It's an ancient jade—_'

"Wait—I'm in the wrong room." He froze when he saw the boy stirring; holding his breath for a moment when he almost thought the kid saw him.

'_How can that be? You're on the third floor—'_

"And there's a kid in here!"

'_Say what—stupid, this is Bruce you're talking about. He doesn't have any kids.'_

Rolling his eyes, he relaxed. "When was the last time you watched the news?"

'_Since…never. I was in Italy, remember?'_

"He adopted some kid."

'_Then get around him and start looking…"_

Well, that was a no-brainer. The only problem was, every time he tried to move, the kid would stir, and, if he was as young as he looked, chances were he'd wake the whole household the moment he saw Jason.

"I can't."

'_What!—Why not?'_

"He's going to wake up."

'_Maybe if you'd shut up, he'd go back to sleep. And if he wakes up—shut **him** up instead.'_

"How? You want me to punch his lights out?" Cautiously he made his way over to the boy's bed, leaning over to have a look at him. "Wow…"

'_What?'_

"Looks like someone beat me to that idea. Jeez…I wonder if he was in a car accident or something…"

There weren't many bruises, more on the neck than anywhere else (strangling perhaps?), but there was a long scar across his left temple and bandage wrapped around his forehead. Grabbing the collar of the boy's shirt gently, he pulled it down a little to sneak a glance at his chest. Sure enough, that was wrapped up too…

"I don't think we should worry about him waking up." He sighed. "I don't think he's going to be up and about any time soon."

'_Then grab him.'_

"Excuse me—_what_!"

'_Hold him for ransom. I don't think Bruce is a child beater, and he went through a lot of hell to adopt that kid.'_

"Even if that's true, I don't do kidnapping."

'_Since when?'_

"Since _ever_. If you want to ransom him, then you can come up here and grab him yourself."

'_With a broken arm? Sure, go and open the front door and I'll stroll right in.'_

Rolling his eyes, he glanced at the boy again. "I think he's been through enough hell already."

"You're weird."

He nearly jumped out of his skin, backing up a step when the boy opened his eyes. He thought the boy was asleep—sure looked like it—but what surprised him more was that the kid wasn't moving to scream or runaway. Looked…kind of dazed.

"What medicine do they have you on, kid?" Jason murmured, tempted to head tails and just run. "Aren't you going to call for help?"

'_Great—teach him how to arrest you. **What's wrong with you**!'_

He wasn't too good with children.

"Get out of here and I'll pretend I never saw you." The kid yawned, closing his eyes again. Either the boy thought he was seeing things or he was being literal.

'_Don't listen to him—just grab him!'_

"And tell your friend to shut up." The boy added tiredly.

'_How loud do you have the volume on? You **want** him to hear me?'_

"I have it on low…" He grumbled. "It's your yelling that he hears…"

"I can yell for help if you want me to." The boy sighed, opening his eyes again and sitting up with a wince. "But…"

Jason froze when the boy shook his head, the dazed look still in his eyes. He was on medicine—either that or poison—and maybe this could work.

"Go already!" The boy moved to stand, but, with a slight sway, he decided it was better to stay seated. He looked like he was on the verge of passing out.

'_Jason, if you don't grab him I'll call the police.'_

"_What_!"

'_As an anonymous tip I'll tell them who you are and what you're doing there. The plaster on the window should be proof enough…'_

Why that little…

The boy took a deep breathe and opened his mouth—just as Jason covered it with one hand. "Okay, kid. I can't do this the easy way so this has to go—"

'_Would you just get out of there already? You can chat to him all you want in the van…'_

Oh boy…

At least things were easier now. The boy, as he suspected, had passed out.

Maybe he could get away with this…

-A-

Anyway—stay tuned for next time. I have to get going to my first class period, so have a nice day!

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


End file.
